I 



■ 




Glass ffffjit 

Book H 1 7 

Copyright^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 



OTHER WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR 

THREE ACRES AND LIBERTY 

A LITTLE LAND AND A LIVING 

THINGS AS THEY ARE 

LIFE, LOVE AND PEACE 

THE GAME OF LIFE 

MONEY MAKING IN FREE AMERICA 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 



BY 



BOLTON HALL 

Author of "Three Acres and Liberty," "Things as They Arc 
"Free America," etc. 



With an Introduction 

BY 

EDWARD MOFFAT WEYER, Ph.D. 

Professor of Philosophy, Washington and Jefferson College 




New York 

MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 

1911 



> A 



nA 



Copyright, 1911, by 

MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 

New Yokk. 

All rights reserved 
Published October, 1911 



THE QU1NN A BOOEN CO. PRESS 
RAHWAV, N. J. 



©ciA^imoo 






TO THE MEMOKY OF 

THE REVEREND DR. JOHN HALL 

WHO PREACHED FROM THE WORD 
WHAT I TEACH FROM THE WORLD 



INTRODUCTION 

At the request of the author, I have read this 
book in proof sheets, and, from the point of 
view of one interested in psychology, I have 
suggested many amendments which have all, I 
think, been adopted. 

As will be seen by the intelligent reader, the 
best sleep involves more than a normal body; it 
involves healthy thought and the application to 
our daily lives of the moral principles laid down 
by our great spiritual teachers. 

The cure of sleeplessness has hitherto been 
left largely to the physician, who is not always 
a specialist on that subject and who will wel- 
come a treatise that will enable his patient to 
co-operate with his restorative measures. Mr. 
Hall has already shown in Three Acres and 
Liberty and in The Garden Yard his ability to 
put into clear, popular language and readable 
form scientific truths that non- scientific people 
need to know and wish to learn. 

The proper management of our own bodies is 
even more essential to our happiness and well- 

vii 



viii INTRODUCTION 

being than the proper management of the land, 
and I hope that this book will be no less wel- 
come to students and physicians than to the 
great mass who for lack of knowledge or of 
attention do not wholly avail themselves of the 
freely offered gift of sleep. 

The book may be useful to many who find it 
difficult to harmonize their lives with their sur- 
roundings, and may bring to many a happier 
view of the ways of God to man. 

Edward Moffat Weyee, 

Washington and Jefferson College. 

September eighth, 
Nineteen Eleven. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I SLEEP . . 1 

II HOW MUCH SLEEP 5 

III THE TIME OF SLEEP .... 11 

IV WHAT SLEEP MAY MEAN . . 15 
V HOW TO GO TO SLEEP .... 20 

VI SLEEP IS NATURAL .... 26 

VII THE DUPLEX MIND .... 30 

VIII WAKEFULNESS 36 

IX SIMPLE CAUSES OF WAKEFUL- 
NESS 40 

X " LIGHT " SLEEPERS .... 47 

XI THE GIFTS OF WAKEFULNESS 51 

XII THE PURPOSE OF SLEEP . . 58 

XIII THE SLEEP OF THE INVALID . 62 

XIV THE SLEEPLESSNESS OF PAIN 66 
XV OPIATES 73 

XVI DEVICES FOR GOING TO SLEEP 78 

XVII MORE DEVICES FOR GOING TO 

SLEEP 84 

XVIII STILL FURTHER DEVICES . . 88 

XIX HYPNOTIC SLEEP 94 

XX " PERCHANCE TO DREAM " . . 101 

XXI NATURAL LIVING 108 

XXII FRESH AIR AND REFRESHING 

SLEEP 113 

XXIII THE BREATH OF LIFE ... 117 

ix 



x CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIV EATING AND SLEEPING . . 124 

XXV SLEEPING AND EATING . . 128 

XXVI SOME MODERN THEORIES OF 

SLEEP 133 

XXVII EARLY THEORIES OF SLEEP 138 

XXVIII MORE THEORIES 142 

XXIX STILL MORE THEORIES . . 147 

XXX WE LEARN TO DO BY DOING . 153 

XXXI VAIN REGRETS 156 

XXXII THE LOVE THAT IS PEACE . 162 

XXXIII THE SPECTER OF DEATH . 167 

XXXIV A NATURAL CHANGE . . .175 
XXXV THE DISTRUST OF LIFE . . 180 

XXXVI REST AND SLEEP .... 186 

XXXVII THE NEED OF REST ... 192 

XXXVIII SAVING OF EFFORT ... 196 

XXXIX ANTAGONISM 201 

XL STRUGGLE IN THE FAMILY . 205 

XLI UNNATURAL LAWS .... 210 

XLII THE NATURAL LAW ... 215 

XLIII " LETTING GO " 219 

XLIV REST IN TRUTH 225 

XLV THE SPAN OF LIFE .... 229 

XLVI WASTE STEAM 233 

XLVII UNDERSTANDING .... 238 

XL VIII THE SUPERSTITION OF FEAR 246 

XLIX IMAGINARY FEARS .... 251 

L ILL SUCCESS 257 

LI SOCIAL UNREST . . ., . . 263 

LII ECONOMIC REST 269 



CONTENTS xi 

CHAPTER PAGE 

LIII " IF HE SLEEP HE SHALL DO 

WELL " 275 

LIV CONCLUSION 280 

APPENDICES AND BIBLIOGRAPHY . . 284 

APPENDIX A 285 

APPENDIX B . . 287 

APPENDIX C 288 

APPENDIX D 293 

APPENDIX E . . . . 297 



FOREWORD 

This book is intended no less for those who 
do sleep well than for those who do not. It is 
just as important to be able to teach others 
to act well as to be able to do so ourselves. 
To teach we must analyze and comprehend our 
own action and its motives: for being able to 
do a thing well is far different from being able 
to teach it. In order to teach anything we must 
know how we do it and why others cannot do it. 
We never know anything thoroughly until we 
have tried to teach it to another. 

Many persons sleep well only because they 
are still, like little children and animals, in the 
unreflective stage of life. That is the stage of 
the Natural Man, and it is good in itself; but 
later the mental life awakes, when conscious- 
ness of one's self begins, and examination of 
one's own desires develops. If not rightly un- 
derstood or if not at least accepted, that devel- 
opment brings anxiety, unrest and disturbance 
of sleep, and breaks the harmony of the whole 
nature. 

The highest stage of development is the spir- 
itual, the all-conscious state which includes and 
harmonizes the other two. In that we do not 



xiv FOREWORD 

lose the ready, overflowing enjoyment of our 
bodily exercises and functions ; rather they are 
intensified; the physical and the mental are 
united in the complete life. 

In order to attain this harmony we must 
examine the means that we and others use to 
gain rest and peace ; some of these are instinc- 
tive and some prudential, and we must perceive 
why it is that these means work or fail to work 
in different cases. When, with all our getting, 
we have gotten this understanding, then, and not 
till then, all action becomes natural and joy- 
ful, for then we understand it all, and follow 
willingly the leading of the Spirit that is in 
Man. 



Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, 
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born. 

Samuel Daniel. 



CHAPTER I 



SLEEP 



Saneho Panza says: " Now, blessings light on him 
who first invented sleep ! Sleep which covers a man 
all over, thoughts and all, like a cloak; and is meat 
for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, heat for the 
cold, and cold for the hot. Sleep is the current coin 
that purchases all the pleasures of the world cheap, 
and the balance that sets the king and shepherd, the 
fool and the wise man, even." — " Don Quixote." 

SLEEPING is the one thing that everyone 
practices almost daily all his life, and that, 
nevertheless, hardly anyone does as well as 
when he began. We have improved in our 
walking, talking, eating, seeing, and in other 
acts of skill and habit; but, in spite of our ex- 
perience, few of ns have improved in sleeping: 
the best sleepers only " sleep like a child." 

It must be that we do not do it wisely, else 
we should by this time do it well. 

Even the race of mankind as a whole does 
not seem to be able to use sleep, to summon it, 
or to control it any better than primitive man 
did. We talk much of the need of sleep, and 
sagely discuss its benefits, but we know neither 



2 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

how to use the faculty of sleep to the best ad- 
vantage nor how to cultivate it. 

Yet for ages men have studied the mystery of 
sleep. We have acquired many interesting 
facts concerning its variation, and have formu- 
lated a nur^ 1 t of theories concerning its cause 
and advantci t ; nevertheless, science has given 
us little real knowledge of sleep, and less mas- 
tery over it. 

Mankind has had idols ever since conscious- 
ness began. Advancing knowledge has changed 
the nature and number of the idols, but it has 
not destroyed them. The idol of the present 
age is " Science/ ' and men worship it in the 
degree that it seems to fit their needs. They 
forget that Science is merely the knowledge of 
things and persons, arranged and classified, so 
as to make it available. In its nature it is 
fallible, for some new phase discovered to-day 
may show that yesterday's conclusion was 
formed from a theory which itself was based 
on a mistaken premise. Man has caught a 
glimpse of something that resembled truth, has 
stated it, reasoned about it, and finally either 
established its authority or disproved it utterly 
through the discovery of the r6al thing he was 
seeking. Either result was progress, because 
man grows, as Browning says, ' ' through catch- 
ing at mistake as midway help, till he reach 
fact indeed.' ' 

So there is no need to be disturbed by the 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 3 

conflicting opinions of men of science touching 
the purpose or method of sleep. Even the re- 
jected theories have added to the sum of our 
knowledge, and the field for investigation is 
still open to all who are faithful in noting and 
comparing the manifestations of Future, which 
the scientists call phenomena. .- 

■Most of what we call science nas to do with 
physical or material things. Consequently, we 
find scientists dealing mainly with what may be 
called tangible phenomena, those which may be 
measured or weighed or held in the hand or, at 
least, pinned down by pressure of thumb or 
finger. 

Material Science 's estimate of man is largely 
gauged by 

c ' Things done, that took the eye and had the price ; 

O'er which, from level stand, 

The low world laid its hand, 
Found straightway to its mind, could value in a trice. ' ' 

This is the almost inevitable result of look- 
ing upon life as purely material or physical. 
We must view life as physical, but not physical 
only; as mental, but not mental only; as spir- 
itual, but not spiritual only. 

In studying sleep and its attendant phe- 
nomena all these things must be taken into con- 
sideration. So slight a thing as fancy may 
profoundly influence our acts; fancies not at- 
tributable to any material source, so fleeting 



4 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

and evanescent that the clumsy net of language 
cannot hold them, may induce sleep or de- 
stroy sleep. 

A review of the theories and conclusions of 
physicians, both scientific and unscientific, as 
well as of others who have found the study of 
sleep of absorbing importance, will find a place 
in our examination of this vital function of 
organisms. 



chaptee rr 



HOW MUCH SLEEP 



Six hours in sleep, in law's grave study six, 
Four spend in prayer, the rest on Nature fix. 
(Translation.) Sir Edward Coke. 

MAN is the highest expression yet discov- 
ered of the " living organism,' ' and sleep 
has always taken more of his time than any 
other function. Marie de Manaceine of St. 
Petersburg, in her great book called " Sleep," 
says: " The weaker the consciousness is, the 
more easily it is fatigued and in need of sleep ; 
an energetic consciousness, on the contrary, is 
contented with periods of sleep that are shorter, 
less deep, and less frequent." 

Although the consciousness of the race has 
developed and strengthened enormously, and is 
steadily strengthening itself, the old-fashioned 
idea that one-third of our time should be spent 
in sleep holds the average mind as strongly as 
ever. We insist upon it for the young, impress 
it upon everybody, and look distrustfully upon 
him who is so daring and unreasonable as to 
say that he requires less than eight hours of 

5 



6 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

sleep. When an idea is intrenched in the mind 
it is next to impossible to drive it out by reason 
or even by repetition. 

It is the popular belief that Alfred the 
Great — who is also Alfred the Wise and Al- 
fred the Good (being dead so long) — divided 
time into three equal parts, and taught that one 
part should be given to sleep. If he had said 
this, it would not follow that it is the last and 
wisest word on the best way to divide our 
time, but he did not say it. What he said 
was that one-third of each day should be given 
to sleep, diet and exercise : that is, that a man 
should devote eight hours to sleeping, eating 
and whatever form of exercise or recreation he 
desired. 

There is nothing to show that Alfred spent 
even six hours in sleep, although there is plenty 
of proof that he recognized the difference be- 
tween rest and sleep, for he gave the second 
division of the day — eight hours — to study and 
to reflection, while the remaining eight hours 
were to be for business. In those days kings 
worked hard. Sir Henry Sumner Maine says 
that the list of places where King John held 
court shows that even he was as active as any 
commercial traveler nowadays. (" Early Law 
and Custom," p. 183.) 

But the superstition that Alfred recom- 
mended eight hours for sleep will not down, 
and no amount of argument or proof will 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 7 

change the opinion of the average man on this 
point. " Our forefathers slept eight hours,' ' 
they say; " so should we." We forget that 
probably the rushlight and the candle had much 
to do with the long hours of sleep in olden 
times. As artificial light has improved, sleep- 
ing-time has been shortened. 

There is an old English quatrain which runs : 

1 ' Nature requires five, 
Custom gives seven, 
Laziness takes nine 

And wickedness eleven." 

But sleep is a natural need, and, like any 
other natural need, varies in degree in differ- 
ent persons. Dogs, cats and other animals 
generally sleep more than we do, and their 
young ones sleep still more. Generally speak- 
ing, the infant, whose mental powers have 
barely awakened, who is, so far as we can tell, 
merely a human animal, needs more sleep than 
it will ever need again in its existence. In this 
great need of sleep the human animal resembles 
other animals. 

It frequently happens that, as a man waxes 
older, he requires less and less sleep than in 
his growing and most active years. But old 
people who have outlived their mental life come 
to a time when they sleep and perform merely 
the physical functions like the infant; so also 



8 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

with those whose energy so far exceeds their 
physical strength that the mere effort of living 
exhausts them. This condition may be in part 
due to overstrain of the powers of youth and 
middle age, but it also follows the fixed idea 
that years diminish strength and lessen energy. 
It is easy to fall into this notion, for it accords 
so well with the general idea that rest must 
come only after the period of activity, whether 
that period be a day or a lifetime. 

All of us have had periods when we have 
needed fewer than our average hours of sleep. 
People who sleep out of doors or in thoroughly 
ventilated rooms, under warm but light clothing, 
find that they need less sleep than when they 
occupy poorly ventilated rooms and wrap 
themselves in heavy, unhygienic clothing. Fresh 
discoveries are being made almost daily by 
those who give intelligent consideration to these 
things. 

Even babies differ in their need of sleep. I 
know one healthy, happy, beautiful baby who 
has never slept the average sixteen hours 
that babies are supposed to need. This child 
is now between three and four years of age, 
and has never gone to sleep before nine or half- 
past nine at night. Her parents had the com- 
mon idea of long hours of sleep for infants, 
and the child had a hard struggle for a while 
to convince them that she had no such need: 
such struggles are often called " naughtiness." 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 9 

She was regularly put to bed at seven o'clock, 
and all the usual devices for enticing a baby- 
to sleep were practiced. Sometimes she was, 
left severely alone, sometimes she had gentle 
lullabies sung to her, but, whether alone or in 
company, this particular baby played and en- 
joyed herself until between nine and nine-thirty, 
when she quietly dropped to sleep. She awoke 
as early as the average baby wakes, happy 
and refreshed, and her parents finally learned 
that there is no sleeping rule that has no 
exceptions, whether applied to infants or 
adults. 

Drowsiness is a sign that we ought to sleep, 
just as hunger is a sign that we ought to eat. 
Natural wakefulness means that we ought not 
to sleep. The child tries to obey the prompt- 
ings of nature, but we think these promptings 
are wrong, if not wicked, and force him into 
all sorts of bad habits. Says Michelet, " No 
consecrated absurdity could have stood its 
ground if the man had not silenced the objec- 
tions of the child. " 

We are slowly learning that there is no 
need or function of the body or of the mind 
that is exactly the same in all individuals, 
or that is always the same even in the same 
individual. 

But, in spite of this dawning knowledge, we 
still view with alarm any disregard of the rule, 
either in ourselves or another ; so true it is, as 



10 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

Thomas Paine says, that ' ' It is a faculty of the 
human mind to become what it contemplates. ' ' 
We have looked upon ourselves as having cer- 
tain, unvarying, imperative needs until we have 
almost become subject to them. 



CHAPTEE III 

THE TIME OF SLEEP 

■" Women, like children, require more sleep nor- 
mally than men, but ' Maefarlane states that they 
can better bear the loss of sleep, and most physicians 
will agree with him.' " H. Campbell. 

THE amount of sleep, like the amount of 
food, required by an individual varies 
greatly, depending largely upon the conditions 
at the time. Edison, for instance, can go days 
without sleep when engrossed in some inven- 
tion, and he has been quoted as saying that 
people sleep too much, four hours daily being 
quite sufficient. 

In answer to my inquiry, Mr. Edison's secre- 
tary wrote, " Mr. Edison directs me to write 
you that the statement is correct, that for 
thirty years he did not get four hours of sleep 
per day." Evidently, experience taught him 
that an average of four hours per day, if taken 
rightly and at the right time, is enough for 
him. He keeps a couch in his workroom so as 
to sleep when he is sleepy. He does not need 
a clock to tell him when to go to bed, any more 
than you need a thermometer to tell you when 
to pull up the blankets. 

11 



12 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

Edison is not alone in his views on sleep. He 
made extensive experiments with the two hun- 
dred workers in his own factory which con- 
vinced him and most of them that the majority 
slept much too long. The hands seem to have 
entered willingly into the trials: perhaps their 
personal regard for him influenced their con- 
clusions. Napoleon Bonaparte and Frederick 
of Prussia were both satisfied with four hours 
of sleep,* while Bishop Taylor was of opinion 
that three hours was sufficient for any man's 
needs, and Bichard Baxter, who wrote " The 
Saints' Best," thought four hours the proper 
measure. 

Paul Leicester Ford, who was never a strong 
person, once told me that he found four hours ' 
sleep enough for all purposes. He did not wish 
to be understood as saying that four hours' 
rest was enough, but four hours' sleep. He was 
one of the few who understood the difference 
between sleep and rest. He frequently rested; 
his favorite practice being to lie back in a big 
armchair with a book, and forget the surround- 
ing conditions. The book created a different 
set of sensations, which, combined with the 
pause in physical activity, brought a sense of 
rest to the frail body. He frequently got his 
four hours of sleep curled up in the big chair, 
and was then able to go on with the work which 

* It is said, however, that in later life Napoleon carried this 
too far, and was sometimes stupid for lack of sleep. 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 13 

in a few short years made him famous. The 
wife of the late George T. Angell of Boston 
testifies that for years he seldom slept four 
hours a night, having found that, for him, more 
was unnecessary ; but, of course, it does not fol- 
low that no more is necessary for anyone. 

These are not unusual instances, but rather 
typical cases. History and biography are full 
of such; each of us can probably mention one 
or more persons among his own acquaintance 
who can do well with less than the usual eight 
hours of sleep, but we have looked upon them 
as exceptions and perhaps have prophesied that 
they will feel the evil results later, if not now. 
We usually select ourselves as the standard for 
all other persons, or perhaps it is more correct 
to say that we are prone to select one stage of 
our own development as a standard, and try to 
compel even our growing self to conform to that 
stage. When the crab outgrows his shell it 
sloughs off, and, so far as we know, he offers 
no objection, but takes the new shell, which an- 
swers his needs better. But we, who consider 
ourselves infinitely superior to the crab, try to 
compel ourselves to keep within the bounds 
of old thoughts, early habits, and outgrown cus- 
toms after we no longer need them. When we 
are unfortunate enough to succeed, we rejoice 
at our cramped souls as the Chinese woman 
prides herself upon her crushed, cramped, mis- 
shapen foot. 



14 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

The amount of sleep that suited you last year 
may not suit you to-day. You may really be 
getting better sleep and so needing less of it: 
or you may have to make up by quantity for a 
poorer quality. The test is that, if you are 
sleepy in waking hours, you need better sleep or 
more of it. If you are wakeful in sleeping 
hours, you need less sleep or else you are not 
getting the right kind. Good sleep is a habit, 
a natural habit as distinguished from an ac- 
quired habit, and when we learn to take it nat- 
urally, and in natural amount, we get a great 
deal more from it. It is fair to assume that 
purely natural habits, which continue from age 
to age through all stages of human progress, 
are essential to human welfare. Otherwise they 
would drop away from us as many useless 
physical parts have dropped. If you stop to 
think of this, you know that it is so; the man 
in the street and the girl at the ribbon counter 
do not know, so there is more excuse for them 
if they misunderstand. It may be that they 
usually sleep better than you do, and so do not 
need to know it. 



CHAPTER IV 

WHAT SLEEP MAY MEAN 

Sleep, we are beholden to thee, Sleep, 
Thou bearest angels to us in the night, 
Saints out of heaven with palms. 

Jean Ingelow. 

WE know so little about sleep, positively, 
that anyone may assume one thing or 
another about it, so long as what he assumes 
accords with what we do know positively. 

It has been surmised that, during sleep, the 
subconscious mind is busy with the day's im- 
pressions of the objective mind,* fitting and re- 
lating them to past experiences, the sum of 
which makes up the man himself. The subcon- 
scious mind, is, in a sense, man's attitude to life. 
It receives suggestions more easily than the ob- 
jective mind receives them, and has more effect 
upon man's understanding of life. If our last 
conscious thought is a loving thought toward 
all living things, we have aided the latent mind 
in its effort to get in tune with the infinite 
harmony of life. Alice Herring Christopher, 

♦In an examination of the theory of the "subjective" and the 
"objective mind," see chap. vii. 

15 



16 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

the metaphysician, once told me that every 
night as she drops off to sleep she says to her- 
self that she is going to have a lovely time, 
and as a consequence she does; and that, on 
waking, she tries to realize how delightful her 
sleep has been. 

There is an old saying that, when a baby 
smiles in its sleep, it is because the angels are 
whispering to it, and, if we kept ourselves 
in communion with the substance of things, 
" angels " might bring us sweet messages, too. 
They surely will, if we drop to sleep as lovingly 
and peacefully as a little child. 

Another friend of mine, who has the faculty 
of wearing herself out with the excitement of 
each day's experiences, is learning to offset this 
unnecessary drain upon her strength by sug- 
gesting to herself each night, " I shall wake 
rested and refreshed in the morning.' ' By 
this means she is gaining in nervous poise, and 
averting the numerous " break-downs " from 
which she used to suffer. Having made this 
much progress, — which brings her " not far 
from the kingdom," — it only remains for her 
to make the full claim for the fulfillment of the 
promise, " Ye shall find rest to your souls," to 
secure it. 

For the most part, men still regard sleep as 
a symbol of death, that time when we shall know 
nothing of what goes on about us; when, ac- 
cording to general belief, we no longer grow 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 17 

or enjoy. We exclaim with Hesiod, " Sleep — 
the Brother of Death and the Son of Night! " 
But the new idea of sleep as a growing time is 
overcoming that old idea of sleep as death, and 
is beginning to rob even the great change it- 
self of its terrors. We are beginning to see 
that sleep does not interfere with the activity 
of the mind, but simply gives it an opportunity 
to digest and absorb impressions. In the same 
way it may be that death does not interfere 
with the activity of the real man, but may af- 
ford him an opportunity to get the full meaning 
of the experiences he had while sojourning in 
the objective world. 

As it is not conceivable that life began with 
our individual appearance in this world, so it is 
not likely that it will end when our individual 
consciousness ceases. The sum of what we have 
learned and of what we have done must go on, 
else all the learning and the doing would be for 
naught. So this thing which was " I " — and 
will continue to be the sum of that " I," no 
matter whether I am conscious of it or not — 
will use and absorb all that has been thought 
or done in the body, and accept or reject its 
results. 

It will all count in that next experience, and 
help us to be, as Browning says : 

" Fearless and unperplexed 
When I wage battle next, 
"What weapons to select, what armor to endue." 



18 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

The sum of our experiences added to the sum 
of all that have gone before will help us to un- 
derstand life better when and wherever we are 
again conscious of it, just as the experiences of 
each day help us to live the next day better. In 
the active, waking world the perceptive mind 
receives impressions which the reflective mind 
stores up and brings to bear upon our daily life 
and thought, thus developing greater conscious- 
ness in the individual; so the interruption of 
all physical activity may be necessary to the 
further development of the real and intangible 
man. 

As one awakes each morning from a night's 
sleep a new man, physically and mentally, al- 
though not necessarily aware of any change, 
so may our awakening be from the last sleep 
that men call death. It may be that we shall 
arise to new experiences, or perhaps to further 
development in a world that we cannot touch 
with our hands. But in either case we may not 
doubt that the awakening will be good, for all 
life is good. For, after all, we should know 
none of the joys of living if we had not tried 
them. Life is consciousness, and hardly one 
of us would prefer never to have lived ; to have 
had no share in that which has meant man; 
the growth and culmination of unnumbered 
centuries. Life is one, a whole, and the 
' ' slings and arrows ' ' of daily worries and toil 
are only an unimportant part of it. And, if it 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 19 

is so good that we wish to stay here and hope 
to enjoy it, if we can see how it has steadily im- 
proved and beautified in the ages that have 
passed, we cannot fail to see that all it may 
yet become will also be good. 



CHAPTER V 

HOW TO GO TO SLEEP 

Sleep sweetly, tender heart in peace! 

Tennyson. 

MAN craves sleep. If we know of a friend 
who is suffering in body or mind we wish 
him sleep ; mothers soothe their pain-racked or 
terrified children to sleep with every gentle art 
known to them; if, for any reason, man is out 
of harmony with his life as he sees it, he in- 
stinctively turns to " Nature's sweet restorer." 
It is a sovereign balm for many ills, yet we sel- 
dom recognize wherein its virtue lies. During 
his waking hours man is frequently at odds 
with his surroundings. He is out of tune with 
the real things of life and is apt to mistake the 
material side of his life for the whole of his 
being. But when sleeping he is less hampered 
with the impressions of the workaday world, 
less resistant, and, therefore, more harmonious, 
It is in this mental relaxation that the true 
benefit of sleep consists. 

We have as y r et no conception of the immense 
import of suggestion to ourselves or others as 
a cure for body or mind. Suggestions may 

20 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 21 

often be made to a person sound asleep, but they 
are most effective just at the time when the 
reason and the will are losing control of the 
mind, although consciousness has not yet lost 
its grip. 

Accordingly it helps our growth to relax the 
whole nature before going to sleep and to drop 
into the mind the thought of peace and har- 
mony; the assurance that all is and must be 
well. To do this is to get the best sort of 
sleep, the sleep that binds us closer to our fel- 
lows and makes us feel the oneness of all life. 
This is the sleep from which we awake refreshed, 
ready to take up the day's duties cheerfully. 
It is an old country saying, when a person 
seems what is called " out of sorts " in the 
morning, that " he got out on the wrong side 
of the bed." But it is much more likely that 
he went to sleep in the wrong way : that is, in 
an unloving frame of mind. 

1 * Let not the sun go down upon your wrath ' ' 
has a wider significance than we usually re- 
alize. As a matter of mere physical well-being, 
if we have allowed the lack of knowledge or the 
selfishness of our brother to annoy or irritate 
us, it is well to wipe away all traces of that 
irritation before lying down to rest. It is well, 
when possible, to seek the " little one " we 
have offended, through our own ignorance or 
selfishness, and make our peace by confessing 
the fault; while, if we are still self-centered 



22 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

enough to feel that our brother has dealt 
harshly with us, we may remove all the sting by 
thinking lovingly of him. As the soft answer 
turneth away wrath, so the soft attitude turn- 
eth out wrath, both from ourselves and from 
him. Each day should complete itself. Suffi- 
cient unto the day is the good and the evil 
thereof, and to attempt to carry over the evil 
through resentment until another day is but to 
lay up trouble for ourselves. 

For, after all, it is lack of knowledge or un- 
derstanding that makes our brother unkind to 
us or us to him. Each is doing the best he 
can, being such a man as he is. Each of us has 
still some of that separateness which makes us 
regard our own interests as apart from other 
interests, or hostile to them. What our brother 
does, therefore, he does because it seems to 
him the best thing for himself. As soon as he 
sees that one cannot truly prosper at the ex- 
pense of another, because we are all one, he 
will give up his stupid ways — as we shall give 
up our stupid ways when we see that same 
truth. Until then it is useless to be angry or 
upset, for that is only to show that we, too, 
are unable to see the oneness of all. As it is 
bad for our brother that he is so blind, it were 
more consistent that we should feel sorrow than 
anger at his self-injury. 

Epictetus understood that, nineteen hundred 
years ago, and we have not become so stupid 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 23 

as to deny it; we only forget. He saw that 
there is only one kind of motive in all men — ■ 
they are moved by what they think is right and 
best for themselves. Said he, "It is impos- 
sible to judge one thing best for me and to seek 
a different one, to judge one thing right and be 
inclined towards another." We all know this 
about ourselves, but we do not see it so plainly 
about others. 

If we felt this about all men, we should not 
have " indignation with the multitude.' ' For 
what are all their wrongdoings! Is it not that 
they are " mistaken about the things that are 
good and evil? Shall we then be indignant 
with them, or shall we only pity them? . . . 
Show them the error and we shall see how they 
will cease from it when they really see it. But, 
if they do not see the error, they have naught 
better than the deceptive appearance of the 
thing as it looks to them." 

For, argues Epictetus, " this man who errs 
and is deceived concerning things of the great- 
est moment is blinded, not in the vision that 
distinguisheth black and white, but in the judg- 
ment which distinguisheth Good and Evil. . . . 
If it is the greatest misfortune to be deprived 
of the greatest things, and the greatest thing 
in every man is a Will such as he ought to 
have, and if one be deprived of this, why are 
we still indignant with him? . . . We need not 
be moved contrary to Nature by the evil deeds 



24 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

of other men. Pity them rather, be not in- 
clined to offense and hatred. . . . When some- 
one may do ns an injury or speak ill of us, 
remember that he does it or speaks it, believing 
that it is meet and best for him to do so. It 
is not possible, then, that he can do the thing 
that appears best to you, but the thing that 
appears best to him. Wherefore, if good ap- 
pears evil to him, it is he that is injured, being 
deceived. For, if anyone takes a true conse- 
quence to be false, it is not the consequence that 
is injured, but he is injured who is deceived. 
Setting out, then, with these opinions, you will 
bear a gentle mind toward any man who may 
injure you. For, say on each occasion, ' so it 
appeared to him.' " 

Forgive: and if you must blame somebody, 
blame yourself — you can forgive yourself so 
easily. 

So we shall find sleep more restful if we 
leave behind us all the shortcomings of our- 
selves and of our fellows, and approach that 
season of seeming forgetfulness with love to- 
wards all. Calm as an infant's sleep will be 
the slumber of the all-loving man, and for him 
the new day will dawn with increased bright- 
ness; his strength shall be renewed, and his 
joy be more abundant. 

If we always lie down to sleep with this atti- 
tude, regarding the darkness not merely as the 
time when the physical man should rest, but 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 25 

also as a growing time for the spiritual man, 
it will not be long before we adjust our daily 
life to more harmonious relations with the uni- 
verse. The more lovingly we live, the sweeter 
and sounder will be our slumber, for so it is 
that " He giveth his beloved sleep/' 



CHAPTEE VI 

SLEEP IS NATURAL 

Sleep is the joy of life. 

Wu Ting Fang. 

"V/TAN has not gone so far beyond the ani- 
-**" mal stage of development as to have cast 
aside all the weights that hinder him in his 
further progress. He has considered three sub- 
stantial meals daily necessary to his health, and 
if, for any reason, his system refused to take 
that quantity of food, he has worried himself 
almost into a fever over it. Or, he has con- 
sulted a physician who has usually given him 
a tonic; a tonic is something to stimulate the 
jaded appetite, or compel the surfeited stomach 
to do more work than it should. 

Eecent research has shown that this over- 
working of the digestive organs is a fruitful 
source of physical disease, that it dulls the 
mind and chills the spirit. Our loving Mother 
Nature punishes each excess, because pain 
quickest draws our attention to our wrong- 
doing. The flesh strives with us as well as the 
Spirit, for we reap in our own bodies the fruit 
of our ways; still man looks everywhere but 

26 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 27 

within for advice and counsel. His feelings 
may warn him that he is pursuing the wrong 
course, but, until some authority has assured 
him that he is doing wrong, he rarely pays heed 
to his inner warnings. 

Gluttony is one of the evils which Nature tries 
to save man from. The stomach rebels when 
it is made to dispose of too much material, and 
calls in the rest of the body to assist in making 
a protest. The head aches, the heart works un- 
easily, the liver and bowels become inactive, the 
limbs grow heavy, and the whole abused man 
is ill at ease. A bad breath is worse than an 
evil spirit, and a bad digestion is a surer sign 
of ill-doing than a bad conscience. Nature has 
done her best to show the foolishness of over- 
eating ; it is not her fault if man persists in this 
course in spite of her warnings, but she takes 
care that he pays the price of his wrongdoing, 
sometimes in sleeplessness, often in even more 
serious ways. 

Overeating has been the fashion for centu- 
ries. We have thought that, the more we eat, 
the stronger we should become, and mankind 
has followed that fashion despite the ills that 
it has caused, forgetting that it is what we di- 
gest, not what we eat, that nourishes. The ef- 
fects of overeating are both direct and indi- 
rect. The direct effects are those that dog the 
heels of the offense. These effects, when acute, 
have even caused death in a few hours or days, 



28 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

as with King John and his " dish of lamprey 
eels," but some of the indirect effects are more 
direful. Much of the use of alcoholic liquors 
is due to overeating. When we have eaten too 
much, and the digestive organs are so over- 
loaded that they cannot work, we take alcohol 
in some form to stimulate them to greater ac- 
tion. As we continue the wrong practice, it 
requires more and more liquor to stimulate us, 
usually ending in stupor, a parody of sleep. In 
a short time that which we used to cure or off- 
set one evil has created a habit, in itself a 
greater evil. 

It took us a long time to see the connection 
between illness, drunkenness, and overeating. 
We now know that drink becomes a habit and 
after that a disease. If we look at mankind 
in the mass, drunkenness appears plainly as the 
result of two general causes, overstimulation of 
the indulgent classes, and the malnutrition that 
craves stimulants in the masses of the underfed. 

Like every other faculty, consciousness be- 
comes dulled through lack of exercise. It fol- 
lows that oversleeping inclines to dullness and 
stupidity. Further, the body will readily ac- 
commodate itself to the physiological conditions 
that prevail during sleep, to a changed blood 
circulation, and breathing. The oversleeping 
may come to resemble the hibernation of some 
animals. For those inclined to drowsiness or 
to unnaturally long sleep, real interests in life 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 29 

are helpful, also amusements, pleasant society 
in the evenings, and even tea and coffee or other 
mild stimulants are useful. 

Meanwhile, some people, at least, think they 
suffer from insomnia, who in fact suffer from 
going to bed too soon or lying abed too late — 
in the struggle to sleep more than they need. 



CHAPTER VII 



THE DUPLEX MIND 



Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth 
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep. 

Milton. 

T \ TFi must not forget that it is easy to miss 
* * the good results of any natural func- 
tion, and, through misuse, get only poor results. 
As in the matter of eati'ng, we should get only 
good from satisfying our hunger, but the ac- 
quired habit of eating more than we need or 
can digest does incalculable harm. In the same 
way we may misuse sleep, and so lose its best 
benefits. 

" Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of 
care," may be made, as Shakespeare says, a 
repairing time as well as a resting time, for as 
Iamblichus, the Neo-Platonic philosopher saw, 
" The night-time of the body is the daytime of 
the soul." With some insight into the best uses 
of this natural habit, Iamblichus further said 
that, during sleep, ' ' the nobler part of the soul 
is united ly abstraction to higher natures and 
becomes a participant in the wisdom and fore- 
knowledge of the gods." 

30 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 31 

Dr. Thomas J. Hudson's claim made a very- 
popular appeal, that there is a subjective mind 
made up of our inner knowledge, our own in- 
tuitions and mental processes. He alleged it 
to be a part of our being that is able, in some 
instances — as in the case of " lightning calcu- 
lators," of mind-readers and of some clairvoy- 
ants — to perceive the relations of things with- 
out reasoning them out, and to perceive the 
fixed laws of Nature without the aid of the 
senses.* He concluded that this mind or this 
faculty of mind is an inheritance from experi- 
ences and conclusions of the race in its upward 
growth. 

Swedenborg also, who was at least a noted 
scientist, divided the mind into the Interior, 
corresponding to the subjective mind, and the 
Exterior or reasoning memory .f 

The objective mind, as it may be called, 
is what we all know as mind or intellect, that 
part which deals with external objects, getting 
its impressions and reaching its conclusions 
from observation. It is differently affected in 
different individuals by such purely physical 
things as sight and hearing. For a proof of 
this, ask any two persons who have seen and 
heard and been affected by something you have 
seen and felt, to describe its effect upon them, 
and the mental picture they have $f it. Not 

* "Law of Psychic Phenomena," chap, vi. 
f Arcana Coelestia, § 1772. 



32 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

only will they not agree in detail with each 
other, but you will find that neither has seen 
it in the same way that you have. 

Modern science cannot accept the statement 
that foreign, mysterious agencies control the 
mind during sleep; but may not some such ex- 
perience as that which Iamblichus describes, 
come to us in sleep by the spirit working, not 
from without, but from within us? Our spir- 
itual nature is freed at night from the incessant 
calls that beset us during the day. In the calm 
that comes over it in the night-time the doors 
of the storehouses of memory may stand wide 
open before it, and it may lead perhaps a 
broader, fuller life. 

Professor William James has shown that in 
our waking hours, each of us is not so much 
a single self as a cluster of separate selves — a 
business self, social self, the material self, and 
so on — all making up the man as his casual 
acquaintances know him. Professor James 
found that in every individual there is ri- 
valry and sometimes discord among these par- 
tial selves. Now may it not be that in the 
silence, these warring factions lose their iden- 
tity in a state of broader conscious life, and 
merge themselves into a harmoniously acting 
" Spiritual Me "! 

From the standpoint of this spiritual self, 
then, the waking state shows only the objective 
aspects of the mind. It is that understanding 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 33 

which shows us all men working, whether will- 
ingly or unwillingly, for the common good, and 
each receiving what he needs or has power to 
use. It is a recognition that all men are com- 
prehended in the Spirit's plan, that nothing 
can be for the common harm; that even mis- 
takes work out for good, and that life gives 
to each the experience from which he will get 
most development and the power which he can 
best use and relate to his whole life. From 
the spiritual standpoint the subjective mind is 
the indwelling life of the soul; and its growth 
a matter of gradual self-attainment. At its 
highest stage it is the realization of that which 
we have in common with everyone — that under- 
standing and that consciousness of the law of 
harmony which makes us love all mankind, and 
live in communion with the love that is the 
substance of all things. The separate self does 
not appear at all on the horizon of such thought 
and purpose. 

We have all had a consciousness of this love 
at some time in our lives, no matter how the 
cares of the world may have choked it out. It 
was this consciousness that made a little boy 
say, in a burst of happiness, " I love every- 
thing, and everything loves me." When we 
" become like a little child " in this sense, we, 
too, recognize the love that binds all life in 
one. 

When we can harmonize these two — the sub- 



34 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

conscious, that knows no separate self, with the 
objective, that can see all men as one because 
it sees all men as working for the same end — 
we shall have rest and harmony instead of 
worry, the insanity of the spiritual mind. 

The objective mind which is active during 
waking hours, apparently rests during sleep; 
the subconscious mind is ever busy. Like the 
heart or the digestive organs, the subconscious 
mind carries on its work during that break in 
our usual consciousness which we call sleep. 
How this is done we do not know, any more 
than we know how the physical organs carry 
on their work while we are wrapped in slum- 
ber and unconscious of all about us. There are 
very few, though, who have not had some proof 
of the activity of the latent mind during sleep. 
That somehow this under-mind does work in an 
" uncanny " way — that is to say, in an un- 
known way — is shown by the fact that most 
persons can wake up at any hour that they fix 
in their minds without being called and with- 
out the abominable alarm clock. 

It is a common enough thing to hear people 
say, " I do not know how I knew that; I never 
remember hearing it ; it just came to me. ' ' Or, 
" I tried and tried to think of that yesterday, 
and could not, but, when I woke this morning, it 
was the first thing that came to my mind. ,, 
Such incidents show that some process of which 
we are not objectively conscious is going on all 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 35 

the time ; that no mental experience is destroyed 
or wholly dissipated. The common wish is " to 
sleep over " any perplexing matter. After a 
good sleep our ideas are often better arranged 
than when we fell asleep. 

I have a friend who drops all her problems 
into her subconscious thought, refuses to be 
" exercised in her mind " about them, and 
leaves them for the latent mind to answer. So 
long as she views them from the objective, con- 
scious point of view only, she finds herself 
worrying and losing sleep. The sleep-won mind, 
the " all-knowing Self," as it were, is not 
touched by worry, perhaps because, in com- 
munion with the substance of all experience, it 
perceives that there are few " problems " in 
life, when she does not persist in regarding as a 
" problem " each separate experience. 

We must learn to connect each experience 
with what we know of our life up to that point 
and with what we think it is meant to be. This 
effort will often show us, or itself prove to be, 
the key to the " problem." 

But it is only the scientific expert, one who 
has a perfect conception of the workings of all 
the parts of the frame, who can take one bone 
and reconstruct from it the entire structure of 
the extinct animal. That would be impossible 
for the tyro, and most of us are tyros in the 
science of living. 



CHAPTEE VIH 

WAKEFULNESS 

And Sleep will not lie down but walks 
And wild-eyed cries to time. 

" Ballad of Reading Gaol." 

Oscar Wilde. 

rpHE fact that we confound rest and sleep 
* makes us regard wakefulness as an evil. 
We go to bed to sleep, and, if sleep does not 
come at once, we begin to fret and to toss and 
we try by every means that we know to force 
ourselves to sleep. We never accomplish any- 
thing that way, because it is essentially opposed 
to the nature of sleep. Sleep, to be refreshing, 
must be complete relaxation of mind and body, 
and that is not gained by striving. Natural 
sleep is merely ' i letting go, ' ' which is just what 
so many find hard to do. The course is so sim- 
ple and plain that ' ' the wayfaring man, though 
a fool, need not err therein," but he often does 
err in spite of its simplicity; and sometimes, 
perhaps, even because of its simplicity. 

Naaman, captain of the host of Syria, went 
to the Israelitish prophet, Elisha, to be cured 
of his leprosy. As he was a great man with his 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 37 

master, lie expected some special ceremony done 
for him. Imagine his surprise and wrath when 
bidden to wash in the Kiver Jordan. 

At first Naaman went away in a rage; such 
advice ill-befitted his ideas of his needs. If it 
were enough that he should bathe in a river, 
why in Jordan? " Are not Abana and Phar- 
par, rivers of Damascus, better than all the wa- 
ters of Israel? " Why not wash in them and 
be clean f And Naaman turned and went away. 

But his servants questioned him and said: 
" Had the prophet bid thee do some great 
thing, wouldst thou not have done it? How 
much rather then when he saith to thee ' wash 
and be clean '! " Then Naaman yielded and 
was made whole. 

This story is a picture of our own ways. We 
despise the remedy that is simple, and we feel 
sure that, had it been some great thing, we 
should have found it easier to do. We are un- 
willing to accept simple, natural explanations 
of our difficulties. We feel so because we think 
so highly of ourselves. We forget that the 
greatest things are often the simplest, and, if 
the natural things are too hard for us to do, 
it is because we lack that true greatness which 
sees and welcomes directness. 

If man understood his life better, he would 
cease to think of anything as an " accident " 
without a cause. He would know that nothing 
can occur to him that does not signify some- 



38 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

thing to him in relation to his share in the plan 
of the Universe. He would understand that so 
simple a thing as whether or not he shall fall 
asleep as soon as he lies down to rest, or 
whether he shall find that " sleep has forsaken 
his eyes and slumber his eyelids,' ' may be an 
experience of great importance to him. 

Every incident of life is subject to law; yet 
many of the most important functions of the 
body are performed without any consciousness 
of their relation and dependence one upon an- 
other : as, for instance, breathing upon the cir- 
culation of the blood, which in turn depends 
upon the heart's pumping, and that upon the 
digestion, and that upon the food, and so on; 
the same is true of mental activities, and must 
be true of spiritual activities, for the same law 
runs through all of life. The wakefulness 
surely has some cause and some significance, 
else it had not been. 

When something " goes wrong," we are 
forced to look into our case, and note the rela- 
tion of one state of mind or body to other 
states. It is then, if ever, that we learn which 
is cause and which is effect ; how mistakes re- 
sult in pain and pain warns us of mistakes, and 
how one necessarily follows the other. If it 
were not for the pain that follows the viola- 
tion of some natural law, man might go on in 
his unwise course until he had altogether de- 
stroyed his physical body. 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 39 

It is the pain from the burn on the tiny hand 
that warns the infant not again to touch what 
he is told is " hot." If fire did not pain the 
body, we might be destroyed by flames without 
making any effort to escape. In fact, the chilli- 
ness and numbness of the African " sleeping 
sickness " often lead patients actually to burn 
off their hands or feet in the effort to get warm. 
It is quite possible that, if there were no pains 
in child-birth, women would bear children con- 
tinually until they were themselves exhausted 
or their progeny overran one another. It is 
pain that tells us that a tooth is decayed, so 
that even toothache may be a blessing. 

Therefore, if we are wise, instead of re- 
belling against pain, we should accept it grate- 
fully as the helper and the possible preserver 
of our lives, and we should accept the wakeful- 
ness quietly as the sign of something that needs 
correction, or else as an opportunity for quiet 
thought and reflection. 

When we have found what is wrong, and do 
our best to correct it, not only is the attention 
drawn from the pain to the remedy, but the 
effort to relieve it lessens the effect of the 
suffering.* 

* Tolstoy has traced out the working of that curious and 
benign dispensation. See chap, xvii, "Life and Love and 
Peace," where the present author has fully considered his 



CHAPTER IX 

SIMPLE CAUSES OF WAKEFULNESS 

Where care lodges, sleep will never lie. 

Shakespeare. 

\A/E all know the blessing of sleep, but it is 
7 * hard to show the sufferer that wakeful- 
ness is useful. 

Wakefulness always has some cause, and, if 
we truly wish to be cured of it, it will be well 
to seek the cause rather than to grumble at the 
wakefulness itself. It is not enough to know what 
is the matter, we must find out why it is the 
matter. To find the cause of any condition 
simplifies matters ; it makes the course we must 
follow clearer. If the cause can be removed, 
we should bend all our energies to removing it ; 
to paraphrase Stephen Pearl Andrews' saying 
—we are not to be subject to circumstances, 
but rather to make ourselves center-stances. 
But, if the matter be something over which we 
have no control, there are two courses open to 
us : the first is to accept the condition and adapt 
ourselves to it; the second is to devise some 
method by which we may gain control over it. 

A childish story* will illustrate this : 

* Republished by permission of the Century Company. 
40 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 41 

Once there was a squirrel that did not like 
its home, and it used to scold and find fault 
with everything. Its papa squirrel had long 
gray whiskers, so he was wise. He said to the 
squirrel: " My dear, as you do not like your 
home, there are three sensible things you could 
do: 

Leave it, 

or Change it, 

or Suit yourself to it. 

Any one of these would help you in your 
trouble.' ' 

But the little squirrel said, " Oh! I do not 
want to do any of those; I had rather sit on 
the branch of a tree and scold.' ' 

"Well," said the papa squirrel, "if you 
must do that, whenever you want to scold, just 
go out on a branch and scold away at someone 
you do not know." 

The little squirrel blushed so much that he 
became a red squirrel, and you will notice that 
to this day red squirrels do just that thing. 

Whatever course we pursue, we find some- 
thing to do in connection with the underlying 
principle or cause; this doing prevents us 
from wasting energy and patience upon mere 
effects. That is an advantage, for any action 
relieves mental pain, and often relieves phys- 
ical pain, too. The victim writhes not only in 
its effort to escape, but in the effort to express 



42 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

its feeling, to respond to the excited nerves, just 
as we dance about or hop up and down when 
we hit our finger with the hammer. We often 
hear people deplore that their suffering is in- 
creased because they can do nothing to remedy 
the trouble. We frequently exclaim, i i It would 
be easier to bear, if only I could do something. ' ' 
A knowledge of what to do and how to do it 
always helps toward peace of mind. 

When yellow fever was one of the ' ' mysteri- 
ous dispensations of Providence," men of sci- 
ence fought only its symptoms, with very in- 
different success. The people in the district 
where the fever broke out were panic-stricken ; 
those who could fled from the place ; those who 
were compelled to remain went about in fear of 
their lives. Now that we believe that the bite 
of an infected mosquito is the once " mysteri- 
ous dispensation, ' ' we no longer allow the in- 
fection to spread. Fear and unreason might 
have continued to treat outbreaks and epidem- 
ics of yellow fever for centuries to come with- 
out lasting advantage to the plague-ridden 
spots, but the knowledge of what to do and how 
to do it has made yellow fever a preventable evil. 
It has no terrors for an intelligent community. 

So with wakefulness. If we find ourselves 
wakeful when we should be sleeping, the first 
thing to do is to find the reason. 

Sometimes we cause our own sleeplessness 
unsuspectingly, but none the less deliberately, 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 43 

by the false requirements that we lay upon our- 
selves. People often say, " I could not go to 
sleep in a room like that." If there is time 
and opportunity to put the room in order, why 
do it; but, if not, we can resolve, as the boys 
say, to " forget it." 

Many a woman frets and disturbs herself 
continually by putting things in what she consid- 
ers order, which things are no better for being 
rearranged and which generally cannot stay in 
order — endless pushing in of chairs and plac- 
ing pamphlets or books with the little ones on 
top and the big ones at the bottom ; a constant 
and wearisome struggle to keep all the shades 
in the house in a line. The labor of Sisyphus, 
who had forever to roll a great stone up a sand 
hill, would be restful compared with that. I 
knew a man once who would be entirely upset, 
and would upset all the people about him, if his 
stockings that came from the wash were not 
placed below those in the drawer so that they 
would surely be used in rotation. 

Some persons cannot sleep after dawn if the 
light shines on their faces, yet are so possessed 
by the idea of order that they will not move 
the bed, disarrange the furniture to make a 
screen, or even sleep with their heads at the 
foot of the bed. 

Another person insists always on being 
waked up by the last person to come home in 
order to be sure that the house was closed up. 



44 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

Still another cannot go to sleep till lie has bal- 
anced up every cent of petty cash spent that 
day. 

Many persons spend the most of their 
thought and exhaust themselves over things 
that are just as trivial and inconsequent as 
these ; though they seem important to . them. 
When anything has become such a habit, even 
though reasonable in itself, that you cannot 
sleep without it, you are paying too dear for 
it and it is time to change it. There is danger 
even in good habits — they may master us. 

It may be that we have had some stimulating 
mental experience which has not yet relaxed its 
grip upon our attention. In such case even 
bodily weariness is apt to be forgotten, for, 
after all, every physical sensation is dependent 
upon some mental condition, whether fleeting 
or permanent. It is this interdependence of 
physical feeling and thought which makes it 
possible to recall emotions of pain or sorrow, 
of comfort or joy. The sight, the touch, or the 
smell of certain things will bring back sensa- 
tions that once accompanied them, whether 
those sensations be painful or pleasant. 

If the mind has been so stimulated that it 
cannot relax, there is little likelihood that sleep 
will come quickly, but we cannot relax by impa- 
tience. Tossing and turning will not quiet the 
mind; we must either accept the condition 
calmly and follow out the train of thought that 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 45 

has started or deliberately side-track the excit- 
ing cause. This may be done by setting up a 
counter activity in the mind along quieting 
lines. For instance, if one had walked the 
streets late on some such occasion as a New 
Year's Eve celebration in New York, and had 
become stimulated by the lights and the crowds, 
he might deliberately recall the most peaceful 
day in the country that it had been his fortune 
ever to know. 

A' typical scene of this sort is a warm Sunday 
in late spring, when all the usual activities of 
country life have ceased ; the air is heavy with 
the scent of clover and field flowers, the apple 
blossoms, and the thousand odors of the fresh 
country field; the air moving so lazily that it 
scarcely stirs the trees; the cow chewing the 
meditative cud; the bees buzzing dreamily; the 
very horses, standing under the shed of the lit- 
tle white country church, whinnying softly to 
each other, as knowing that a spell of peace is 
over all, a spell that must not be broken ; while 
from the church itself comes the drone of the 
preacher, — each little stir a part of the peace 
that broods over the day. Think of some such 
thing as that, recall it in all its details, and the 
chances are that the drowsiness induced at the 
time, whether one were of the congregation or 
a mere onlooker, will again steal over the eye- 
lids and, before one is aware of any change, 
he is well on the way to the land of dreams. 



46 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

In the same way if one has read an exciting 
book, or has seen a thrilling play, one may 
either live them over nntil the feelings ex- 
haust themselves, because no longer new, or one 
may deliberately divert one's self from thinking 
of them and devote the attention to more sooth- 
ing things. Either course removes all cause for 
impatience with the fact of wakefulness and 
leaves the mind quieted. This tends to drowsi- 
ness, even if it does not really induce sleep. 

Sometimes it may help us if we rise and read 
some quieting book, not " a thriller." Such a 
volume as Thoreau's " Walden," or that more 
modern little volume, ' ' Adventures in Content- 
ment,' ' by David Grayson, or we may repeat 
some soothing poem like Tennyson's " Sweet 
and Low," or Burroughs' " My Own Shall 
Come to Me " and similar verses. 

Any of these will help to relax tension, and 
put us in a more restful frame of mind, and, as 
minds differ, so some persons will find books 
and verses of other sorts to have the desired 
effect upon them. 

When we cannot sleep, to rise, throw back 
the bed-clothes so as to cool the bed, walk about 
the room, go to the window and fill the lungs 
with oxygen often tend to quiet the body and 
mind. We must learn to know our own needs 
and to find out each for himself what meets 
them. To " know thyself " is only the first step 
to control thyself, 



CHAPTER X 



He sleeps well who knows not that he sleeps ill. 
Publius Syrus (42 B.C.). 

OOMEONE may say that such things as 
^ stimulation of the mind are simple causes 
of wakefulness, and so easily overcome that it 
is hardly necessary to consider them; yet, sim- 
ple as they are, they frequently make the wake- 
ful one impatient. The more complex causes 
are really as easily dealt with as these simple 
ones, when once we have learned to control the 
mind. Take, for instance, the complaining 
" light sleeper " who cannot sleep if anybody 
else makes a noise, or if anything out of the 
ordinary occurs. He is in a steady state of 
apprehension lest something will happen to 
disturb his rest; and generally something does 
happen. A baby cries, a dog barks, a heavily- 
laden team lumbers by, an automobile honks, 
a locomotive shrieks, or a steamer whistles, and 
sleep forsakes him for the night. 

He pronounces anathema on the offending 
cause; he pities himself for his sensitiveness, 

47 



48 THE GIFT OP SLEEP 

at the same time that he almost despises his 
fellows who are so " dead and unresponsive 
that they can sleep through such a racket "; he 
suffers at the thought that he may get no more 
sleep, yet he enjoys the prospect of rehearsing 
to a sympathizing audience in the morning the 
tortures of such a delicate organization as his. 
This sort of sleeplessness is made up of so 
many contributing causes that it is difficult for 
any but the most perfectly honest man to de- 
cide what makes him so susceptible to noise. 
But it is undoubtedly true that some of these 
causes are due to fear, to training, and, most 
of all, to self-interest. 

It is always difficult to make the super- sensi- 
tive person realize that his suffering is due 
chiefly to self-consideration and a desire to con- 
trol others. It is an undue recognition of one's 
own claim upon the very circumstances of life 
that makes one offer so many surfaces which 
may be " hurt." We may be disturbed in our 
sleep by the ordinary pursuits of our fellows 
because we have an exaggerated idea of the 
importance of certain conditions that appeal to 
us and make for our comfort. We wish to sleep 
at a certain time, and we should like to regulate 
all our neighbors so that they, too, should sus- 
pend all activities at that same time. We ac- 
custom ourselves to quiet ; and then insist that 
we cannot do without it. 

There is a story told of a man working in a 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 49 

foundry who formed a part of two " shifts " of 
workmen and betweenwhiles slept for some 
hours in the foundry. When released from that 
strain, he found that he could not sleep at home 
because it was so quiet, and it became necessary 
for the members of his family to unite in mak- 
ing ringing, pounding noises to lull him to 
slumber. 

It is a well-known fact that those who live 
near the cataracts of the Nile cannot sleep if 
they get beyond the sound of the pounding. 
Soldiers, who are wearied after a hard day's 
march or fighting, will sleep soundly beside 
twenty-four pounder guns steadily firing; or 
even sleep on the march, their legs moving me- 
chanically though their senses are steeped in 
sleep. 

Country people coming to the city are kept 
awake by the unusual street noises, while city- 
dwellers, accustomed to the roar of elevated 
or subway trains, are unable to sleep in the 
country because of the intense silence which 
Nature's noises often emphasize. 

Unreflecting man is a creature of habit: if 
any change occurs in his routine, he finds it 
difficult to adapt himself to it. He seldom 
comes to understand that it is chiefly insistence 
upon his own needs as apart from the needs 
or interests of others that makes him require 
certain conditions for sleeping. In either case 
the cause of wakefulness is easily found; but 



50 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

nobody other than the individual most con- 
cerned can remove it. 

If we are living in selfish disharmony with our 
fellows; if we are indulging feelings of envy, 
malice, uncharitableness or hatred towards 
those about us, we are not likely to sleep re- 
freshingly. All such emotions do more harm 
to the one who feels them than to those against 
whom they are directed. They may undermine 
the health, destroy the mental poise, and blot 
out the sense of kinship with mankind. The 
Hebrews understood that so well that he who 
would offer a sacrifice is reminded that, if he 
have aught against his brother, he must leave 
his gift at the altar and make his peace before 
he can offer an acceptable sacrifice to God. 

If wakefulness be the result of impatience 
with our brother, there is only one cure for it : 
that is, to replace it with loving patience. It 
is the lack of love, or the possession of very 
narrow love, that causes us pain in our rela- 
tions with other people. 



CHAPTER XI 

THE GIFTS OF WAKEFULNESS 

"TJUT," you say, "I am not full of un- 
charitableness towards my fellows and I 
am willing they should live their own lives; I 
am greatly worried about my own affairs and 
all my cares come trooping back to me as soon 
as I lie down. I cannot sleep for worry." 

Yes; but is not that only another form of 
selfishness? A subtle form, but none the less 
disturbing. Moreover, it is shortsighted, as is 
all selfishness, for it is a boomerang. If the 
worry is about business, we shall need a clear 
brain and a steady nerve to face the condition 
that is causing the uneasiness; and worry at 
night will not give us these. On the contrary, 
it will destroy what remnant of poise we may 
have. 

The solution of trouble is not found in worry. 
Just recall how often you have said yourself, 
or heard somebody say, " After all my worry- 
ing it came out all right; it is strange that I 
never once thought of that way. ' ' Worry pre- 
vents clear thinking, or, indeed, thinking of any 
sort. We go around and around in a circle un- 

51 



52 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

til we grow giddy and faint with apprehension, 
while all the time we might have peace if we 
but looked at life aright, to see that, in the 
words of the old Book, u it is all very good." 

"When a mechanic is putting a machine to- 
gether and finds that the parts do not fit, that 
they do not ' ' go right ' ' or harmonize, he will 
reach one of two conclusions. Either the maker 
did not know his business, and so did not make 
the parts to fit, or else he, himself, is putting 
them together in the wrong way. If he wants 
to put that machine together so that it will 
work well, he will look into the matter care- 
fully, examining each part, all the time keeping 
in his mind a conception of the complete ma- 
chine. He will probably find that he has been 
trying to fit two unrelated parts together, or has 
reversed their position, misunderstood or only 
partially understood their uses, or has done 
something through carelessness that may easily 
be corrected. Of course, if he is a stupid or 
foolish workman, and not a skilled mechanic, he 
may persist in his wrong course and fail to 
get the machine into working order. But that 
is not the fault of the maker, nor does it prove 
that the machine would not do perfect work 
if it were rightly understood and intelligently 
controlled. So it is with the Cosmos, the or- 
derly world, which will go right for us if we 
do our part right. 

The first steg towards knowing how to get 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 53 

anything is to have a clear idea of what it is 
that we want; for development is not thrust 
upon us, nor dropped upon us by our parents. 
It is desire that creates function; the creature 
that wants to swim is the creature that learns 
to swim; the bird that does not want to fly will 
lose the power; before we can rise higher, we 
must look higher. 

' ' When the ideal once alights in our streets, ' ' 
says Edward Carpenter, ' ' we may go home to 
supper in peace, the rest will be seen to." 

But, if we enjoy worry as the countryman's 
wife " enjoys poor health," we shall continue 
to have it, for we always get what we most 
want, if we set about it in the right way. And 
if we do not want worry, we need not worry. 
If the trouble is unavoidable or unchangeable, 
it were wise to use our powers to adjust our- 
selves to the inevitable. If it be a curable 
trouble, the only thing is to discover or devise 
a cure. As soon as we start to work we cease 
to worry, because worry and effective activity 
cannot exist at the same time. Man, at least, is 
such a creature that any real action looking to- 
wards a definite end brings him pleasure ; and, 
though the action may have been stimulated by 
pain, yet the pleasure he finds in the action 
mitigates, if it does not destroy, the pain. 

If the original cause for the worry lies in our 
own ignorance, selfishness, or thoughtlessness, 
the anxiety may teach us to repair the ill so that 



54 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

we may not have to get the same lesson again. 
But worrying will teach us less than a cheerful 
acceptance of the facts — or than that courage 
which says, 

" And still the menace of the years 
Finds and shall find me unafraid ' ' — . 

and one of the best aids to cheerfulness is 
sound, refreshing sleep. If we should put orT 
all worrying until the morning, there would be 
very little worrying done by the normal, healthy 
person, for, after a good night's sleep and in 
the clear light of day, things look much better 
than they did in the darkness and solitude of 
the night, with mind and body worn from the 
activities of the day. 

If we feel that our affairs are too important 
to be left to the care of the Providence that 
keepeth Israel, and slumbers not nor sleeps, 
then at least we may wait until morning to give 
our attention to them. It is unfair to bring 
exhausted faculties to bear upon matters of so 
great weight. If our troubles can be helped by 
worrying, we should worry when we are in the 
best possible trim. To do less were to under- 
estimate their importance and to prove that, 
anyway, they are not worth losing sleep over. 

But there is still another way of looking at 
wakefulness, when we cannot trace the cause of 
it. It may be the time sent to us by the Spirit 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 55 

for quiet thought. The ancients believed that 
God spoke in visions of the night. We may not 
always be able to sleep, but we can always lie 
in the arms of our Great Mother Nature. There 
is a real philosophy as well as devotion in the 
old prayer we teach our children, " Now I lay 
me down to sleep.' ' A still older form of the 
almost instinctive recognition of the fact that 
sleeping is but intrusting ourselves to the Uni- 
versal love was, " He committed himself to 
God in sleep." 

Like sleep, a wakeful night may be a grow- 
ing time. It affords the quiet, the time, the se- 
clusion to think over the meanings of things, 
or even to seek the cause of the wakefulness it- 
self. For that is the first thing to do if we 
find ourselves wakeful; if the cause be so ob- 
scure that we cannot find it, then the best thing 
to do is to accept the fact. 

Either we do not need the sleep we are seek- 
ing, — the reclining position being all the rest 
the body needs, — or else we do need the wake- 
fulness to teach us something that we can learn 
or will learn in no other way. It is a time 
when, free from the watchful eyes of those who 
love us, or those who do not love us, we need 
not fear to look at ourselves, our motives, our 
relations to our fellows. 

It may be only at such a time that we can feel 
the closeness of the tie that binds all mankind, 
only in such a time that a life-giving sense of 



56 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

oneness can renew life and joy. Some persons 
are so acutely conscious of the surge around 
them during the day that it is difficult, if not 
impossible, for them to get any large view of 
it. They are so beset and bewildered by each 
little detail of life that they cannot see any rela- 
tion among things as a whole, cannot ' ' see the 
wood for the trees." 

Or, it may be that a lack of poise, a false esti- 
mate of the relations of things, makes them find 
" their own affairs " so interesting or exhaust- 
ing that the observing mind gets no large or, 
deep impressions to be added to the sum of the 
knowledge the inner self possesses. 

For either of these classes the wakeful night 
may prove more restful and helpful than hours 
of sleep. It may be made to bring a breadth 
of view that will lift one out of the narrow 
limits in which daily life is passed. It may 
do as much as this for any of us, and, if we 
reject the receptive mood, and insist upon ob- 
jecting to the wakefulness, we may thereby de- 
prive ourselves of some of the most illuminating 
experiences. 

Someone has said: " Sleep, like drink, may 
drown our sorrows, yet it also drowns our joys. 
What could we not accomplish if we did not 
require sleep? " 

It may be comforting to think of this when 
we are lying awake, that at least we are wasting 
no time. The gift of wakefulness is often as 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 57 

desirable as is the gift of sleep, and, if we wel- 
come the one as what must be — with as much 
cheerfulness as the other — each will bring us 
equal blessings. It often happens that what we 
regard as evil is but Life's left hand out- 
stretched with a gift whose use we did not rec- 
ognize when presented by her right hand. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE PURPOSE OF SLEEP 

Sleep is a life giver as well as a life saver. 

Willard Mover. 

13 UT none of these things lessens the benefits 
*~* of real sleep, nor are they intended to show 
that sleep is unnecessary, for although it may 
be true, as Dr. Charles Brodie Patterson says 
in " The New Heaven and the New Earth," 
that man will some day get along without sleep, 
no one is yet able to do that. 

Although our troubles make us lose sleep, we 
could lose all or nearly all our troubles if we 
got natural sleep. Forgetfulness of daily frets, 
of the wear and tear of contact with the sharp 
edges of our own temper and the temper of 
others— these are the things that sleep blots 
out. " Go to sleep,' ' says Mother Nature, 
' ' and forget your troubles. ' ' And to blot them 
out even for a time means surcease of sorrow 
and worry for that time at least, and a new way 
of looking at them when we have awakened. 
That is what sleep is for. It is the use of it. 

Pat took Mike to church for the first time, 
and, when the ceremony was over, he said, 

58 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 59 

" Well, Mike, what do you think uv it? " 
" Think uv it, Pat? The candles, the bow- 
ings, the incinse, and the garmints, — it do bate 
the divil." 

" Sure," replied Pat, " thot's the intuition.' ' 
And so it is the intention of sleep to " beat 
the devil " of unrest and dissatisfaction. Noth- 
ing makes us feel better than a good night's 
sleep. It soothes the aching muscles, quiets the 
jangling nerves, brushes away the cobwebs of 
the mind, and leaves us rested and refreshed, 
strong to meet the events of the new day. 

It is after a bad night that we rise op- 
pressed with fear for what the day may bring 
us; overwhelmed in advance with shadowings 
of evil. This, in itself, makes us unequal to 
the demands of the day. If any seeming strain 
is put upon us that day, we are apt to make er- 
rors in meeting it ; if we find anyone has failed 
to do just what seemed to us best, we upbraid 
him roundly and unlovingly, making him and 
ourselves unhappy. 

At the close of such a spoiled day, when we 
review its happenings, we say: " I knew this 
morning that this would be an unlucky day. I 
felt it as soon as I got up." But we may not 
realize that that very attitude of fear and ap- 
prehension may have caused all that we call 
ill-luck. Eemember this, then, lest the one bad 
day should spoil another night. 

Often after a night of sound, wholesome, re- 



60 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

freshing sleep we are surprised to find that 
what looked like a mountain at midnight is 
now scarcely a hillock. We find that we can 
see around it on all sides, and the prospect of 
surmounting that difficulty fills us with peculiar 
delight. "We are no longer apprehensive of 
anything. The things we see in our work in 
the world are no more terrible than what we 
see in that unknown world which we enter 
nightly through the gate of sleep. We long 
to pass that gate, yet we know nothing of where 
we go, how far we travel, or by what means 
we come back. 

If we can trust Life for what the night 
brings, we can trust it further and gladly ac- 
cept what the day brings. We feel this, even if 
we are not conscious of it, and after a good 
sleep (this is what sleep is for), we accept 
it much as the child accepts his mother's care. 

A little boy was riding in a trolley car with 
his parents and persisted in standing up, to the 
terror of his mother, who begged him to sit 
down lest he get hurt. 

Turning to his father he whispered, as he 
reluctantly took his seat, " What a 'f raid-cat 
mother is." 

" Oh, well!" replied his father, " she is 
nervous, but you know she has to take care of 
her little boy." 

" Yes," said the child, " that's what she is 
for." 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 61 

So that is what sleep is for — to take care of 
us, but we cannot compel sleep; and the ad- 
vantage of recognizing the possible gifts of 
wakefulness is that we thus get around to the 
frame of mind where we drop into natural 
sleep. Impatience not only delays the coming 
of sleep, but it robs us of any benefit we might 
receive from lying peacefully in the dark. 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE SLEEP OF THE INVALID 

Sleep, gentle Sleep, 
Nature 's soft nurse — ■ 

Shakespeare. 

W/E should not think that, because we are 

* * ill, it is natural that we should not sleep. 

The invalid needs more and better sleep than 

the robust person — and the invalid can have it. 

It is true that, as more and better sleep 
comes, the invalid will cease to be an invalid — 
at least that is the beginning of the end of in- 
validism. For Nature provides sleep as the 
" balm of hurt minds " — a cure for body or 
mind that needs restoring. 

In the case of severe illness the physician in 
charge feels relieved when he learns that his 
patient is sleeping well. The professional idea 
of sleep is that nutrition goes on most per- 
fectly during sleeping hours; that is, that Na- 
ture repairs all the waste that results from the 
use of brain and muscle during our waking 
hours. The more prolonged and undisturbed 
the sleep is, the more opportunity Nature has 
to make good the extra demands made upon the 

62 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 63 

system by disease. It opens the way for the 
1 ' Vis Medicatrix Naturae ' ' — the healing power 
of Life. 

Take, for example, the fever patient. Any- 
one who has watched beside a loved one slowly 
consuming, with the fever raging in his 
blood, will remember the sigh of relief that 
has gone up from physician and nurse when 
the patient falls into a natural sleep after the 
turn of things. During dreadful nights and 
anxious days we wait breathlessly for the 
" crisis "; we hang upon the physician's word, 
scan his face for every fleeting expression, be- 
cause we may be deceived by the disease, but 
his practiced eye should know. But we do not 
need his assurance when the moaning and rest- 
lessness pass, when the stertorous breathing 
quiets, when the skin becomes moist, and the 
gentle, regular breathing tells us that natural 
sleep has come. If we can be spared, we go 
out under the stars and, whether Christian or 
pagan, up from the depths of our souls wells 
a prayer of thankfulness to " whatever gods 
there be " for the incomparable blessing of 
sleep. We feel as if we could " go softly all 
our days ' ' before the powers who have decreed 
that sleep shall gently steep the eyelids of the 
one we love. 

Nourishment, in the form of food, is desir- 
able, but more important still is the sleep when 
Nature busies herself building new tissue and 



64 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

blood to make good the ravages of fever's 
siege. We are careful to keep even good news 
from the patient, if we have cause to fear that 
it will prove too stimulating, and everything 
depressing or alarming is absolutely withheld, 
because sleep is the paramount need of the de- 
pleted body. 

We all recognize the value of sleep to the 
person just past the crisis of a severe illness, 
and the next thing to learn is that to the per- 
son invalided through some less active cause, 
it is as necessary, and that it may be had. 

It may seem an extravagant statement to 
say that the invalid should be able to summon 
sleep at will even better than an active, healthy 
person. But we may see the truth of this 
statement if we accept Dr. Edward Binns' as- 
surance that " in no sense can fatigue be said 
to be the cause of sleep," so that the usual 
claim that the sick do not get an opportunity 
to weary themselves, and so cannot expect 
sound sleep, cannot be accounted a reason for 
sleeplessness of the invalid. 

To be sure, lying abed is not always restful. 
A friend of mine was kept in bed for some 
weeks by a broken ankle. It was necessary to 
remain in the one position day and night, which 
so wore upon her nervous organization that 
she grew restless and " lost " much sleep. In 
this condition, she said the hardest thing to 
bear was the well-meant congratulations of her 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 65 

friends that at least she was " getting a much- 
needed rest." 

But the real reason why an invalid should 
learn to sleep at will is because sleep alone can 
do what Macbeth asks of the physician : 

" Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, 
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, 
Raze out the written troubles of the brain, 
And with some sweet oblivious antidote 
Cleanse the stuff 'd bosom of that perilous stuff 
Which weighs upon the heart? " 

Yes, sleep can do this; and illness has need 
of just such comfort. The enforced idleness 
leads to much reflection and the nervous system 
is then ill-adapted to endure emotional strain. 
If pain be added there is still greater need for 
sleep. Nor is pain absolutely hostile to sleep : 
the writer can often go to sleep while the den- 
tist is drilling and filling his teeth, and Dr. J. 
Howard Eeed says that this is not very uncom- 
mon. 

Pain is Nature's strong protest against over- 
stimulation or overexertion and the exhaustion 
which it occasions is itself conducive to sleep. 
It would be better for us to heed that protest 
and use our intelligence to secure sound, re- 
freshing sleep, that Nature might perfect her 
cures. 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE SLEEPLESSNESS OF PAIN 

He kisses brows that ache from earthly care ; 
He soothes to peace the indignant souls of slaves. 

Edgar Fawcett. 

OOMETIMES we are kept awake by pain. 
^ Some persons suffer pain that has no re- 
mission, except the temporary deadness that 
comes from nervous exhaustion — and sleep. 

But sometimes the hardest torture is the 
thought that the pain is unnecessary or useless. 
I went once to visit a friend, whom I found suf- 
fering from the worst abscesses on the back of 
the neck that I ever saw, so frightful that the 
sight of them made me, who am a strong man, 
feel faint. I asked sympathetically what was 
the matter. ' ' Oh, ' ' he said, " I 'm getting some 
experience. ' ' That consciousness that such pain 
was useful helped to make the agony less unen- 
durable. In fact, though he did not see it all 
then, he was getting just what he and those 
about him needed. He was a vigorous man, 
who took to rural work in a place where the 
food was excellent ; he was naturally gluttonous 

66 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 67 

and overate, hence the boils. This he learned; 
and also how to bear pain. . 

There are ways of bearing pain more easily. 
We must consider the pain philosophically, and 
treat it from all three sides — the bodily, the in- 
tellectual, and the spiritual. 

However advanced we may be, it is foolish to 
deny that, in common with the rest of mankind, 
we are more or less in what Paul called the 
bonds of the flesh. To try to treat an aching 
tooth without physical means is like trying to 
grow a new leg instead of getting an artificial 
one. There was a stage in man's Pre-Adamite 
progress from the amoeba when, like the crab, 
he could grow new legs. Possibly, by discard- 
ing all other faculties, men might again be able 
to grow new legs : but it would not pay. 

A man who makes hammers may at one time 
have made his own files, had a shop for that. 
But, as trades became specialized, he found it 
better and cheaper to buy his files. Perhaps 
the supply is suddenly cut off. Now he could 
reassemble from the scrap-heap the file ma- 
chinery and make files again, but it would be 
at the cost of putting so much time and energy 
into that branch as to paralyze the hammer 
factory. 

So, Nature found that men rarely lost their 
legs and that it was more economical to divert 
the organization and the energy that repro- 
duced legs into the brain, which enables men 



68 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

to supply themselves and their fellows, when 
occasion arises, with artificial legs. Accord- 
ingly we have lost much of the power of auto- 
matic self-healing and have gained much power 
of deliberate self-healing. 

While distrusting crutches and drugs, there- 
fore, because we see the immediate effect of 
them, but cannot know the remote effects of 
them, we cannot refuse a hot-water bottle or an 
anaesthetic when the pain, the symptom of the 
disorder, becomes dangerous in itself. The 
fever of typhoid represents a battle within which 
must be fought out to a conclusion — successful 
or not. But, when the patient is in danger of 
dying from the high temperature, it is no incon- 
sistency for a mental or spiritual healer to cool 
the room or sponge the patient with alcohol. 

Before we resort to the dentist for the aching 
tooth, we may reduce the inflammation by ab- 
staining from food and starving the blood cor- 
puscles, which hasten to the diseased part, until, 
perhaps, they feed upon the weaker and obnox- 
ious tissues. This abstinence will go far toward 
removing the restlessness that is so torturing 
an accompaniment of the pain. These are the 
physical remedies. 

The mental ones consist mainly in trying to 
isolate the aching member, to realize that it is 
the tooth, not you, that aches, and to watch it 
as if it were a separate person. A little boy 
was asked how he felt after a feast of green 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 69 

apples. " I have a pain in the middle of my 
stomach, " he said, " but the rest of me feels 
fine." A further mental remedy is to send to 
that separated part, the nerve, the assurance 
that you have already its message, which is that 
there is inflammation in the tooth and that you 
will attend to it as speedily as possible. The 
nerve gets tired, as it were, of repeating a mes- 
sage that gets no attention just as it gets tired 
of reporting the ticking of a clock so that we 
become unconscious of it; although, if we sus- 
pected that it was the knocking of a burglar's 
tool, we should be kept awake by it night after 
night. 

And we must not complain. The Japanese 
think it rude to complain. If you are miser- 
able, why make others miserable, too? Better 
not even let it be known, if you can help it 
without creating unpleasantness, that you suf- 
fer. To solicit sympathy is weakening and the 
constant inquiry, " How are you now? " con- 
centrates your attention on yourself and on 
your feelings. If we complained to everyone 
of the ticking clock, we would never forget it ; it 
would become less and less endurable. 

The spiritual treatment is harder to make 
clear. It is the unwillingness to have pain that 
makes it hard to bear. To illustrate again 
from the dentist, because that experience is 
still common to nearly everyone: We go to 
the operating chair, not gladly, but willingly, 



70 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

believing that it is wise and necessary and we 
bear the pain without complaining, knowing 
that it is the common lot of man. But suppose 
you were seized, strapped into the chair, and 
then your teeth were drilled and sawed to no 
good purpose, how much more frightful would 
be the pain. That would be because you be- 
lieved it to be unnecessary and useless. It 
would be quite different if you trusted the 
operator. We must realize, then, that, if there 
is a controlling and benevolent Power in the 
Universe, which we all, rightly or wrongly, be- 
lieve in our hearts, we never can have any pain 
that is useless or needless to ourselves, or to 
others, our other selves. 

We may not see it at the time, but, if we 
look for it, we usually shall see it. While writ- 
ing this the author was attacked with a violent 
toothache : he had exercised ordinary prudence 
in attending to his teeth, so that it did not 
seem as if the pain were needed to teach care. 
But when the toothache came he remembered 
that, seldom having pain himself, that subject 
had been overlooked among the many chapters 
of the book. That was a reason ; but, notwith- 
standing the efforts of an excellent dentist, the 
torture continued. Why? 

Why, that he might try these things ; and he 
did practice them so as to lose no sleep. In 
addition he concluded that it was needful just 
then that he should feel just such pain in order 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 71 

to revive his sympathy and patience with those 
whose harassed nerves account for so much of 
their unreasonableness. 

With that sense, that one is in a manner suf- 
fering for men, comes something of the exalta- 
tion of the martyr, even with prosaic tooth- 
ache. With that certainly disappears all impa- 
tience with the pain. 

Perhaps he will be accounted superstitious in 
adding that, when these lessons were learned, 
the dentist found the trouble and the pain 
melted away. But he has had exactly similar 
experiences before: a new lesson or a renewal 
of it was needed. When the pain was no 
longer necessary it ceased. Why should it 
continue? 



SWEET AND LOW 



Sweet and low, sweet and low, 

Wind of the western sea; 
Low, low, breathe and blow, 
Wind of the western sea! 
Over the rolling waters go, 
Come from the dying moon, and blow, 
Blow him again to me; 
While my little one, 
While my pretty one, 
Sleeps. 

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest; 

Father will come to thee soon. 
Rest, rest on Mother's breast; 

Father will come to thee soon. 
Father will come to his babe in the nest, — 
Silver sails all out of the west 
Under the silver moon ! 
Sleep, my little one; 
Sleep my pretty one, 
Sleep. 

Tennyson. 



CHAPTER XV 

OPIATES 

f^\ NE of the most common signs of something 
^ > ^ at fault either with the body or the mind is 
headache. Now headache, like wakefulness or 
nervousness, so often associated with headache, 
is an effect of some error, not a cause of it, and 
the wise sufferer will seek the cause even before 
he treats the effect. 

We call ourselves the most enlightened na- 
tion of the earth to-day, and it is true that a 
little knowledge has been more generally dif- 
fused among our people than among other 
peoples of the world. But we should not for- 
get that " a little knowledge is a dangerous 
thing "; largely because a little knowledge fre- 
quently proves to be no real knowledge at all. 
For example, the " little knowledge " gener- 
ally possessed in regard to opiates. 

Coal-tar was once a waste product, but to- 
ward the end of the last century a German 
chemist discovered that from it could be de- 
rived a drug, acetanilid, which would greatly 
lower temperature in fever. This discovery was 
hailed as a boon to humanity, and many other 

73 



74 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

by-products of coal-tar were soon placed on the 
market, and regarded as of equal value with 
acetanilid. Physicians used them for a time 
without questioning, and the people took to 
them gladly. Wherever there was a persistent 
headache, some one of the coal-tar products was 
used, and " headache powders " multiplied. 

But a little further knowledge led physicians 
to question the expediency of using acetanilid, 
phenacetin, antipyrin, or any of the coal-tar 
preparations in other than exceptional cases. 
Heart-failure and other dangerous results so 
frequently followed their use that the wisdom of 
using them at all became doubtful. As our 
knowledge increases, we are likely to find 
both the wisdom and necessity entirely dis- 
appearing. 

In the meantime, those who have heard that 
temporary relief from pain may be had by 
using these drugs will go on using them, often 
in patent medicines, ignorant of what these nos- 
trums contain, and the number of deaths result- 
ing from their use continues to increase. The 
only way to protect such people from the re- 
sult of their little knowledge, which is really 
ignorance, is by making it illegal to sell these 
drugs, except by prescription from a physician, 
who, in turn, should be held responsible for re- 
sults. 

This is, of course, an interference with the 
individual's right to do as seemeth best to him, 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 75 

and to get his experience in his own way. Her- 
bert Spencer says, " The ultimate result of 
shielding men from the effects of folly is to 
fill the world with fools.' ' But it is the same 
sort of interference that makes ns hold a man 
by main force from throwing himself on the 
track before an approaching train, and not the 
sort that would forcibly put an overcoat on 
him when he did not care to wear it. One may 
be no more justifiable than the other, but it 
seems more excusable. 

All sleeping doses are to be viewed with dis- 
trust; most of them contain opium or mor- 
phine, some still more deadly drugs: Nature 
" sets up a tolerance " for them so that, to 
obtain the effect, the dose must be increased, 
until, if the sufferer does not retreat in time, an 
almost incurable drug habit is formed, often 
more terrible than the liquor habit, which it 
sometimes supplants. Nor do they bring true 
sleep. 

E. Clarke Newton, in his treatise on ' ' Opium 
and Alcohol," says " Sleeplessness means not 
merely unrest, but starvation of the cerebrum. 
The only cause for regret in these cases is that 
the blunder should ever be committed of sup- 
posing that a stupefying drug which throws the 
brain into a condition that mimics and bur- 
lesques sleep can do good. It is deceptive to 
give narcotics in a case of this type. The 
stupor simply masks the danger. Better far 



76 THE GIFT OP SLEEP 

let the sleepless patient exhaust himself than 
stupefy him. Choral, bromides, and the rest of 
the poisons that produce a semblance of sleep 
are so many snares in such cases. Sleepless- 
ness is a malady of the most formidable char- 
acter, but it is not to be treated by intoxicating 
the organ upon which the stress of the trouble 
falls." 

The late Dr. Alonzo Clark, who for years 
stood at the head of his profession as a consult- 
ing physician in New York City, is quoted as 
saying, " All curative agents, so called, are 
poisons, and, as a consequence, every dose di- 
minishes the patient's vitality.' ' I doubt 
whether this view of drugs would be seriously 
contested by any of his professional brethren 
of good standing. 

The venerable Professor Joseph M. Smith, 
M.D., said: " All medicines which enter the 
circulation poison the blood in the same manner 
as do the poisons that produce the disease. 
Drugs do not cure disease." 

John BigeloWj in the " Mystery of Sleep " 
(p. 190), adds: " With drug-poisons should be 
classed nearly, if not quite, all fermented drinks 
— the most costly part of some people's diet 
who indulge in them at all — coffee, tea, tobacco, 
spices, and most of the constantly multiplying 
tonics and condiments of the table. All of them 
have a tendency, directly or indirectly, to dis- 
courage or impair sleep, and, as such, are 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 77 

' hostes humani generis ' (enemies of the hu- 
man race). Their interference with sleep, 
though perhaps the most serious, is very far 
from being their only pathogenetic influence." 

Mr. Bigelow then cites from Jahr's " Manual 
of Medicine ' ' the fearful disturbances of sleep 
caused by fifteen drugs, all taken as samples 
from the list in their order under the single 
letter "A." 

Contrary to the general belief, sleeplessness 
is more often a consequence of insanity than a 
cause of it. (See Appendix A.) 



CHAPTER XVI 

DEVICES FOR GOING TO SLEEP 

Southey, in " The Doctor," thus summarizes some of the 
chief devices to attain sleep by monotony : " I listened to the 
river and to the ticking of my watch; I thought of all sleepy 
sounds and of all soporific things — the flow of water, the 
humming of bees, the motion of a boat, the waving of a field 
of corn, the nodding of a mandarin's head on the chimney- 
piece, a horse in a mill, the opera, Mr. Humdrum's conversa- 
tions, Mr. Proser's poems, Mr. Laxative's speeches, Mr. 
Lengthy's sermons. I tried the device of my own childhood, 
and fancied that the bed rushed with me round and round. At 
length Morpheus reminded me of Dr. Torpedo's Divinity Lec- 
tures, where the voice, the manner, the matter, even the very 
atmosphere and the streaming candle-light, were all alike 
soporific ; when he who, by strong effort, lifted up his head and 
forced open the reluctant eyes, never failed to see all around 
him asleep. Lettuces, cowslip wine, poppy syrup, mandragora, 
hop pillows, spider's web pills, and the whole tribe of narcotics 
would have failed — but this was irresistible; and thus twenty 
years after date, I found benefit from having attended the 



T^REQUENT impressions on the mind, or 
* calls on the attention, tend to make us 
sleepy; thus looking at pictures, the attempt 
to study, driving in a carriage. In extreme 
cases this is very marked. A boy named Cas- 
par Hauser was shut up alone in a gloomy lit- 
tle room until he was about eighteen years old; 

78 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 79 

then he was brought to Niirnberg and aban- 
doned in the street; this was in 1828. He was 
to all intents a baby and could not walk, nor 
speak, nor see clearly, as he had never known 
any of the common objects of life — men or ani- 
mals or plants, or the moon or sun or even the 
sky. 

He would go to sleep instantly on being taken 
outside the house, because the number of new 
sensations instantly tired his consciousness. 

For the same reason that the consciousness 
is quickly exhausted, many old or delicate per- 
sons readily fall asleep. Marie de Manaceme 
says that Moivre, the French mathematician, 
used to sleep twenty hours a day during his old 
age, leaving only four for science and the other 
occupations of life. 

Monotony naturally fatigues consciousness 
and is often successfully used to produce sleep ; 
the regular dropping of water, the sound of 
a brook will put those to sleep whom it does 
not make nervous. Lullabies and slumber songs 
and dull lectures all come under the same 
head of devices to tire the consciousness. 

Narcotic drugs do not weary consciousness; 
they simply destroy it. They stupefy us instead 
of inducing sleep. Those who would wisely 
learn about this by experiments upon others 
rather than upon themselves, will find it all in 
the article by Einger and Sainsbury on ' ' Seda- 
tives ' ' in Tuke 's c * Dictionary of Psychological 



80 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

Medicine.' ' It is enough for us to be assured 
that narcotic sleep is less like real sleep than 
the hibernation of the animal is like repose. 
(But see u Eemedies " in Appendix A.) 

Henry Ward Beecher used to get up when he 
was sleepless and take a cold bath, a good device 
for a full-blooded, vigorous person : but a weak 
person would not ' ' react ' ' and get warm again. 
For such an one it would be better to sponge off 
and restore the circulation by rubbing. Some 
physicians have prescribed, with good success, 
blood-warm baths, beginning at a temperature 
of about 98 and heated up to 110 or 115 Fahren- 
heit. When the moisture has been absorbed by 
wrapping one's self in a blanket, throw it off 
and get quickly into a warm bed. Mark Twain 
used to get to sleep by lying down on the bath- 
room floor after the bath. 

Some, when other means fail, find it effective 
to place a cold-water bag at the back of the 
neck, or to rub the feet with a rough towel : with 
others, a hot-water bottle at the back of the 
neck works better. A warm footbath helps 
some persons. At the sanitariums they sponge 
with warm water, rub with wet salt, gently 
sponge it off, and dry the body — all of which 
helps the blood to the surface. It is always 
well to see that the bowels are emptied. Only 
trial and judgment will show whether any of 
these will effect a cure : they all aim at the same 
mark, to abstract the blood from the brain. 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 81 

That drinking milk produces sleep in some 
persons may probably be due to the lactic acid 
in the milk, which is a soporific like morphine. 
Perhaps its use is to help young animals to the 
long sleeps they need. 

Willard Mayer, in an entertaining essay, 
tells us that it is often advisable for the stom- 
ach to have sufficient work for the blood to do 
so as to call it from the brain. This does not 
mean that a meal that will overload the stom- 
ach is a cure for insomnia, but that something 
light, such as a cup of warm milk and a cracker, 
may often " send one comfortably to sleep like 
a drowsy kitten or a well-fed baby." 

A. Fleming, following Durham, the author of 
the " Psychology of Sleep, " showed that to 
deprive the brain of blood by pressing the 
carotid arteries for thirty seconds brought im- 
mediate and deep sleep, but it only continued 
while all pulsation of these arteries is stopped.* 

It has been found by cruel experiments on 
young puppies that sleep is more necessary to 
them than food, as they die after being kept 
awake four or five days, but may live ten or 
fifteen days without food. They easily go to 
sleep when their heads are level with their 
bodies, and they will not go to sleep with their 

* It is interesting also to note that a similar pressure on the jug- 
ular veins produces loss of consciousness, but from just the oppo- 
site cause, that is, from congestion of blood in the brain. This 
state of unconsciousness resembles coma just as the other resem- 
bles sleep. E. M. W. 



82 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

heads lower than their bodies: of course, the 
raised head drains some blood out of the brain. 

This is the reason that heat or extreme cold, 
both of which bring the blood to the surface 
and drain it away from the brain, will often 
produce sleep. That is why the cowboy likes 
to sleep with his feet to the fire. On the other 
hand, the demand on the heart of cold hands 
or feet for more blood to keep them warm 
may make the heart pump so strongly that it 
sends more blood to the brain and keeps one 
awake. So also joy, anger, or anxiety cause 
a flow of blood to the brain and hinder sleep. 

Becker and Schuller have treated insomnia 
by wrapping the entire body in wet sheets and 
also by applying cold compresses to the head. 
This last device is used by students, with doubt- 
ful success, * ' to keep the brain cool ' ' ; it is 
sometimes affected because it looks like working 
hard. Sometimes an ice cap, a double rubber 
cap filled with cold water, will bring sleep. 

The Eussian nobles used to make servants 
scratch their heels for a long time; our ladies 
have their hair brushed; and A. H. Savage- 
Landor says that Corean mothers put their 
babies to sleep by scratching them gently on 
the stomach. I have tried this rubbing, rather 
than scratching, with great success. Spanish 
women rub the children's upper spine to put 
them to sleep. Light exercise before lying 
down is often a good expedient. 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 83 

Sometimes a pillow of heated hops or of bal- 
sam pine needles will induce sleep. To change 
the hour of going to bed occasionally, yielding 
to apparently untimely drowsiness, often helps, 
as it accustoms us to gain sleep at irregular 
times. 

To " relax," to let the muscles become per- 
fectly loose, is an art, though it should be 
natural to one going to sleep. Mrs. Eichard 
Hovey recommends shaking the fingers, letting 
them hang loose like a bunch of strings of 
beads, and extending the movement to the 
wrist, arms, feet, and legs. This is the best 
form of calisthenic exercise for sleeplessness. 
It aids us in getting limp so as to lie at ease. 



CHAPTER XVII 

MORE DEVICES FOR GOING TO SLEEP 

Oh Sleep! it is a gentle thing, 
Beloved from pole to pole. 

Coleridge. 

TF life be a succession of ideas, says Dr. 
* Binns, then sleep is the interval; " conse- 
quently, we may say that sleep is the art of 
escaping reflection." If one could follow the 
Chinese advice, divest the mind of all unpleas- 
ant images, " the secret of sleep at will," Dr. 
Binns thinks, " would be in the possession of 
all men." 

This accords in its essence with the very 
modern theory of Dr. Henry Hubbard Foster 
of Cornell University, that sleep results from 
the absence of stimulations. It is conceivable 
that things that stimulate, or rouse us, may 
come from inside as well as from outside. A 
sudden thought, a new, delightful, or horrible 
mental picture will arouse us and send sleep 
flying as effectually as a sudden noise or an 
exciting commotion from without. 

We might amend the Chinese advice thus: 
put out of the mind all images, pleasant or un- 

84 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 85 

pleasant, or, as Dr. Gardner puts it, " bring 
the mind to a single sensation." It has long 
been known that monotony will induce sleep. 
Not merely the monotony of silence, but some- 
times even the monotony of great noise, such as 
the ceaseless firing of heavy guns which have 
lulled the wearied soldiers into rest. There is 
a sleepy sound in " The distant boom of a ran- 
dom gun which the foe was sullenly firing. ' ' It 
is the sudden, irregular noise which disturbs. 
If anyone listens for several hours to soft, 
flowing music, he will have great difficulty in 
keeping awake, no matter how great a lover 
of music he may be, particularly if he has to 
sit in the same position all the time. Let a 
musical number with strongly marked staccato 
movement be introduced, let the drum throb 
loud at intervals, the horns blare, then the 
sleeper will awake and find renewed enjoyment, 
not because he loves noise, but because the mo- 
notony has been broken. The mind has re- 
sponded to the new stimulus. 

Professor Boris Sidis, of the Harvard Physi- 
ological Laboratory, says that " the funda- 
mental conditions of sleep are monotony and 
limitation of voluntary movements. Sleep," 
adds Sidis, is not so much due to cutting off 
impressions through the senses, be they intense 
or faint, as to the monotony of the " impres- 
sions that reduced the organism to the passive 
state which we experience in sleep." In other 



86 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

words, monotony has such a benumbing, dead- 
ening effect upon the mind that sleep naturally 
ensues. 

Although Binns did not know Foster's and 
Sidis' modern views, yet accepting Gardner's 
theory of " bringing the mind to a single sen- 
sation," he worked out a plan for inducing 
sleep which he said nearly always succeeded. 
During his long practice he had known of only 
two instances where it failed when faithfully 
and intelligently tried. 

The method is simple, yet it includes putting 
out of the mind all images pleasant or unpleas- 
ant, and restricting voluntary movements. It 
is this: Turn on the right side, place the head 
comfortably on the pillow, let the head fall nat- 
urally, using the pillow only to support the 
neck, slightly close the lips, — though this is 
not absolutely essential, — take full inspiration 
through the nostrils, drawing in as much air 
as possible, then leave the lungs to their own 
action, neither hastening nor checking exhala- 
tion. Think of the breath as passing from the 
nostrils in one continuous stream, and, the very 
instant the person so conceives, consciousness 
and memory depart, the muscles relax, the 
breath comes regularly, he no longer wakes but 
sleeps. It is all the effort of but a moment." 

Another method in common use is counting 
up to a hundred on an imaginary string of 
beads. Often one will have lost consciousness 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 87 

before the hundredth bead is reached, but 
sometimes they have to be counted over and 
over, and sometimes the plan fails altogether. 
The immediate reason for this is undoubtedly 
that we have not brought the mind to a single 
sensation, nor succeeded in cutting off the im- 
pressions that come through the senses. 

Everybody has at some time used some such 
device for inducing sleep to visit him. The 
practice of imagining sheep jumping over a 
gate and counting them as they go is but an- 
other way of bringing the mind to a single sen- 
sation, of deliberately securing monotony and 
shutting out all stimuli, as scientific men call 
the various causes that arouse sensation in us. 
Such simple devices are never harmful, and are 
so frequently followed by sleep that they con- 
tinue from generation to generation. 

If the impressions received through the chan- 
nels of sense cannot or will not be shut off, 
it is useless to continue counting beads or 
sheep, or seeing a stream of breath. It becomes 
necessary to discover what it is that is back of 
the stimulation — what impression is so vivid 
and so insistent that it will not down. As Fred- 
erick Palmer says in his delightful book, ' ' The 
Vagabond," we should " take a good look at a 
thing before we run away from it. ' ' 



CHAPTER XVIII 

STILL FURTHER DEVICES 

The sleep of a laboring man is sweet. 

ECCLESIASTES. 

'TITHE Witchery of Sleep " records for us 
-■■ some interesting mechanical devices for 
inducing sleep, more common in Europe than 
in this country. Their inventors hope to per- 
fect them so that they may take the place of 
drugs and " sleeping potions.' ' This is an end 
devoutly to be wished by all who know the 
steady increase of the " drug habit.' f 

Among these sleep-inducing instruments the 
newest is the " vibrating coronet." This cor- 
onet has three metal bands which encircle the 
head and two strips extending to the eyelids. 
By means of a spring these strips vibrate the 
eyelid gently and induce drowsiness. All the 
mechanical devices are constructed on the plan 
of inducing eye-weariness, whether by vibration 
or by fixity. Either effect is in accordance with 
the modern theories of sleep. Sleep may be in- 
duced by monotony also of sounds; by concen- 
tration either of the attention or the hearing on 
one point, or by more numerous impressions 

88 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 89 

than the eye can comfortably receive; thus, 
when riding in a train, the succession of views 
will often induce sleepiness. 

The ' ' Alouette, ' } a collection of little mirrors 
attached to the ebony panels of a box, is so 
placed that a ray of light falls on the mirrors in 
such a way as to fatigue the eye of the be- 
holder. Both this and the " Fascinator," a 
highly polished nickel ball attached to a flexible 
wire depending from a metal band similar to 
the " Coronet," work on the plan of concen- 
trating the vision. In a similar way a light- 
house or a miniature flashlight, with its appear- 
ing and disappearing light, induces drowsiness, 
possibly hypnotic, through incessant change. 
It is needless to say that these devices might be 
injurious to the sight and certainly would not 
work where the cause of sleeplessness is eye- 
strain. That is a case for the oculist. 

But when it is impossible to obtain me- 
chanical devices, there are many simple schemes 
of inducing sleep. Any light work, mental or 
physical, is helpful. To start writing letters, 
particularly if one is not fond of letter- writing, 
will sometimes induce sleepiness very quickly. 
Sorting and arranging old papers will have the 
same effect, unless one is of a nature to find 
such an occupation exciting. 

Of course, a drawback in any of these light 
occupations is that by the time one has un- 
dressed drowsiness may have fled. That possi- 



90 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

bility makes it desirable that all preparations 
for bed shall first be made and a warm robe 
with comfortable bedroom shoes shall consti- 
tute the only extra clothing. Warmth of body, 
especially of the feet, is essential to sleep. 
Sometimes so simple a thing as a hot-water bot- 
tle at the feet, or even woolen bed-socks, will 
make all the difference between wakefulness 
and refreshing slumber. 

Then there is the matter of deep breathing, 
which seems especially adapted to feeble or 
run-down physiques. That is a large subject 
more familiar to the people of the Orient than 
to us. Some Orientals are able to put them- 
selves into trance-like sleep by their knowledge 
of deep breathing. Numerous books have been 
written treating of this subject, among the 
best of which are i ' The Science of Breath, ' ' by 
Eamacharaka, and " The Law of Ehythmical 
Breath," by Ella A. Fletcher, though the 
" Ehythmical Breath " seems fanciful to 
Western readers. 

Sleeplessness is sometimes due to lack of 
physical exercise, and, when that is so, no de- 
vice is so effective as work — real physical ef- 
fort. A great many persons take calisthenic 
exercises and go in for physical culture to de- 
velop muscles and also to regulate circulation 
so that sleep will come more readily. These 
are good makeshifts for persons who have no 
opportunity to work, but, where circumstances 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 91 

make actual labor possible, no substitute can 
satisfactorily take its place. Gardening, shov- 
eling snow, sawing or chopping wood, all give a 
variety of motion and a zest of exertion supe- 
rior to any gymnastics. Even a small amount 
of some such labor daily will often work a com- 
plete cure for insomnia. 

Everybody knows of some plan or device for 
inducing sleep, and all of them are more or 
less successful — sometimes. Indeed, this is 
so true that it leads to the belief that, after 
all, the expectation of sleep helps to bring 
it, and here suggestion and auto-suggestion 
come in. 

Of late, a number of persons have tried the 
starvation cure— fasting for several days. This 
is frequently successful with robust, hearty 
people, who may unconsciously be eating too 
much or eating too stimulating food. Many 
who feel unequal to a complete fast might cut 
down the amount of food as much as one-half, 
with happy results. A vegetarian diet un- 
doubtedly helps, too, although among the lower 
animals carnivora sleep more than herbivora. 
The success of vegetarianism, both in insomnia 
and other diseases, may well be due to the di- 
minished temptation to overeat and the less 
concentrated diet. 

In any event, it is well for the sufferer from 
sleeplessness to study his own case and experi- 
ment with any or all the known devices to see 



92 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

whether, by this means or that, he can lure sleep 
to his pillow again. 

And, speaking of pillows, it is well to re- 
member that one pillow is better than two, and 
that the one should not be too high, too hard, 
too soft, or too warm, and that it should be 
thoroughly aired every day. It should be odor- 
less and cool and have the cover changed fre- 
quently. Clean bed linen is in itself an ef- 
fective device for inducing sleep, just as per- 
fect ventilation adds an hundredfold to the re- 
freshment we get from our slumbers. 

The best way to learn to sleep is to practice 
putting others to sleep. Thy gifts will be unto 
thyself when thy benefits are to another. 

We never know anything thoroughly till we 
try to teach it. All these plans and devices may 
be suggested one by one to any sleepless per- 
son. Select what you think most suitable and 
most likely to be accepted, and let the sugges- 
tion be that this is a good plan or something 
just called to your attention that seems sensible. 
If you do not succeed in one or two, it is diffi- 
cult to secure trial of more at that time. 

Every temperament is different and may re- 
spond to different methods: for instance, a 
ticking clock or dropping water, which make 
some persons drowsy, will make others inex- 
pressibly nervous. 

The trained nurse will tell you that, when you 
are trying to get the patient to sleep, whisper- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 93 

ing must not be allowed: the sibilant sound is 
irritating and the patient unconsciously strains 
to catch what is said. Speak in a quiet, even, 
ordinary tone. Do not fuss, putting the shade 
a little higher and lower, stealing across the 
room, and so on. If anything is to be done, to 
walk quietly and naturally will disturb the 
sleeper much less than tiptoeing about. 

That mysterious thing that we call " per- 
sonality " has much to do with the power to 
bring sleep to others. Some persons can put 
almost anyone to sleep by quietly holding the 
hand, but nearly everyone has some of this 
power. Some persons, especially children, are 
readily got to sleep by lying down beside them. 

Eeading aloud slowly and in a uniform voice 
will bring sleep to most persons. When 
drowsiness comes, the voice may be lowered a 
little and continued until slumber closes the 
eyes. (Concerning the varieties and causes of 
Insomnia, see also Appendix A.) 



CHAPTER XIX 



HYPNOTIC SLEEP 



What would we give to our beloved ? 
The hero's heart to be unmoved, — 

The poet 's star-tuned harp to sweep ; 

The patriot's voice to teach and rouse, — 

The monarch's crown to light the brows? 

" He giveth His beloved sleep." 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 

rjlHE nature of hypnotic sleep has not yet 
*- been fully determined, which is not won- 
derful when we remember our ignorance of 
natural sleep. We may call the active hypnotic 
state a condition of excessive attention to the 
main idea presented and complete oblivion to 
other ideas. But this state is preceded by a 
passive condition resembling sleep. The use 
and value of hypnotic sleep is now occupying 
the attention of scientific men and it bids fair to 
be an important curative agent. Where once 
the patient suffering from insomnia was treated 
by drugs, he is now more successfully treated 
through suggestion. The change is a most de- 
sirable one and in line with that newer thought 

94 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 95 

which recognizes the power of regeneration 
within the soul of the individual. For, the main 
things in the development of hypnosis and sug- 
gestion as curative agents is the recognition, 
that an appeal can be made to the subconscious* 
mind, which, as Dr. Worcester says, " is more 
sensitive to good and evil than our conscious 
mind. ' ' To appeal to our latent powers to over- 
come our own weaknesses or limitations is 
greater and better than to combat these weak- 
nesses through drugs. Many physicians who 
formerly employed hypnosis have adopted a 
substitute for it, the so-called hypnoidal state, 
mere passivity with closed eyes. Hypnotizing 
is in many cases needless and dangerous. 

Insomnia, like any other trouble not due to 
the breakdown of a physical organ, is more a 
moral than a material lapse, and can best be 
cured by moral means : that is, by the aid of the 
will and its associated faculties. Sleeplessness, 
nervousness, excitability, and irritability have 
their rise in mental and emotional states more 
often than in physical states, and, under such 
conditions, treatment by drugs is of little real 
use. In the disease hysteria, mental trouble 
may masquerade as physical defect, for instance 
paralysis or even blindness, while the physical 
parts concerned are in no wise impaired. The de- 
pendence placed upon merely extraneous things 
does not assist in the development of our own 
inner powers. Even when drugs seem to relieve 



96 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

the outward symptoms, they fail to strengthen 
the moral nature, so greatly in need of 
strength. The man of drugs only is at a dis- 
advantage as compared with the suggestionist 
in treating such disorders. Dr. J. D. Quacken- 
bos says, ' ' The suggestionist invokes the better 
subliminal self— invests it with control, and sel- 
dom fails to effect the desired purpose.' ' He 
further maintains, what all investigators are 
now coming to admit, that, when the patient 
wakes from hypnotic sleep, during which help- 
ful, curative suggestions have been made to 
him, he is " constrained to obey the impulses 
of his own superior self." 

The power of suggestion, whether during 
waking or sleeping hours, is only beginning to 
be recognized, although its use in one form or 
another is centuries old. The thoughtless, as 
well as the thoughtful, use it more or less every 
hour of the day, while all of us may know 
that we are occasionally the victims of auto- 
suggestion when we suffer from functional 
ailments. 

Auto-suggestion is merely the suggestion of 
the self to the self, and from ill-advised sug- 
gestions spring nearly all the little impediments 
to sleep and health. Such a suggestion to our- 
selves as that we need certain favorable con- 
ditions for sleeping will keep us awake when 
those conditions are not possible. We say, " I 
cannot sleep with a clock ticking in the room 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 97 

with me, ' ' and so we lie awake and suffer nerv- 
ous tortures if we hear a clock tick. Or we 
say of something our friends do, or of some 
natural habit they have, " That makes me so 
nervous I almost fly out of my skin "; thus we 
inflict upon ourselves suffering that we need not 
endure. 

The strong soul will call his ' ' superior 
self " to his aid to conquer this tendency. He 
will suggest to himself that he is able to sleep 
without regard to clocks or other disturbance; 
that the peculiarities of other people have no 
power to irritate, annoy, or otherwise upset his 
nervous system; that even in the midst of 
alarums he may have peace, if he so wills, and 
can sleep under ordinary conditions without 
fear or annoyance. 

But, to be able to do this, one must have 
faith in himself, in his purpose, in his own de- 
sire to overcome his fears, for, as Dr. Worces- 
ter remarks, " the value of suggestion lies 
in its character and in the character of the man 
who makes it. ' ' If we say these things to our- 
selves, feeling all the time that it is useless, 
we are not likely to impress the subconscious 
mind or rouse it to activity. Self-deception is 
not often beneficial in its effects. No more shall 
we make headway if we merely repeat such 
suggestions in parrot-fashion. You remember 
the story of the old woman who heard that faith 
would remove mountains: so she determined 



98 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

to try it on the hill in front of her bedroom 
window. All night she repeated to herself 
that the mountain would be removed. In the 
morning she awoke to see the hill still in front 
of her. " There,' ' she said, " I knew it would 
be." 

Anyhow, the faith that removes most moun- 
tains is the faith that gets a shovel. It is es- 
sential that we concentrate our minds upon the 
matter in hand, excluding from our thoughts 
anything that might distract us and that we fix 
our attention upon removing the fault. It is 
for this reason that the hypnoidal state, or the 
wakeful night or the moment when one is nearly 
dropping to sleep is the best time either for 
suggestion to a patient or for one to indulge in 
helpful auto-suggestion. As objective con- 
sciousness fades, it is easier to impress the 
subliminal self-consciousness and invoke its aid. 

Those who do not know themselves well 
enough to be able to respond to their own sug- 
gestion, may be helped by another in whom they 
have faith. If they submit themselves will- 
ingly to suggestion, they may find themselves so 
strengthened that they will shortly be able to 
control themselves by auto-suggestion. Like 
almost all upward tendencies, this power is a 
matter of development. 

As we come to understand hypnotism better, 
we learn that we need not fear ill results from 
thus yielding ourselves for a good purpose 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 99 

to another,* for one's subconscious self is al- 
ways on watch and will not be compelled to do 
that which is contrary to one's own nature or 
habit of thought. Hypnotic sleep differs from 
natural sleep in that the hypnotized person 
usually preserves a degree of intelligence and 
invariably a moral sense which are not con- 
spicuous in normal sleep and dreaming. Scien- 
tific investigators are quite well agreed on this 
point, and Dr. Worcester's experience has con- 
vinced him of its truth. 

So, if all other means of securing sleep 
should fail, we may have recourse to this new- 
est method of curing nervous and other func- 
tional disorders. It is merely one way of get- 
ting into closer touch with the Infinite and 
Universal and coming into line with life's un- 
derlying laws. 

The use of auto-suggestion is not limited to 
inducing sleep: it may rid us of evil habits, 
disturbing thoughts, and all hatred, malice, and 
uncharitableness — which in their turn interfere 
with sleep. 

* There are grave dangers attendant on hypnotism for enter- 
tainment. Prof. C. H. Judd of the University of Chicago says: 
" There is no justification whatever for the use of hypnosis as a 
means of amusement." See Judd; Psychology. 



THE LAND OF NOD 

From breakfast on through all the day 
At home among my friends I stay; 
But every night I go abroad 
Afar into the land of Nod. 

All by myself I have to go, 

With none to tell me what to do — 

All alone beside the streams 

And up the mountain-sides of dreams. 

The strangest things are there for me, 
Both things to eat and things to see, 
And many frightening sights abroad 
Till morning in the land of Nod. 

Try as I like to find the way, 
I never can get back by day, 
Nor can remember plain and clear 
The curious music that I hear. 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 



CHAPTER XX 

" PEKCHAETCE TO DEEAM " 

"\\/E are such stuff as dreams are made 
* * on," as Shakespeare says, and yet no 
one even to this day knows what that ' ' stuff ' ' 
may be. We separate man's life into intellect, 
feeling, will; or, like the Hindoos, into seven 
phases ; we subdivide these, recognizing special 
powers and functions belonging to each; we 
dissect man's frame; we dissolve his body 
into its component parts, and yet, when all is 
done, we know as little about life, the essence 
of man, as our father Adam knew. As Omar 
says, we hear ' ' much talk about it and about ' ' 
and yet we get nowhere. It is much the same 
with dreams. We need, therefore, only sum- 
marize and review the talk. 

Dreams occupied their most important place 
in the thought of man at its beginning. His 
action has frequently been directed by a dream 
and the fate of nations has hinged upon its 
interpretation. Even in the present day of 
matter-of-fact science, at some time in his life 
following the racial bent, almost every human 
being has paid some attention to his dreams. 

101 



102 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

The superstitious — which includes the most of 
us — still put faith in their dreams, though they 
know not whence they come, nor their relation 
to the most mutable of physical conditions. 
And this though ages ago Sirach uttered this 
warning, ' ' Dreams deceive many and fail those 
who build upon them." 

Scientific investigation has made known 
many of the causes of dreams and shown us 
what slight incidents may determine their di- 
rection. For instance, dreams involving hear- 
ing often take their rise in noises made by the 
processes going on in the body. What we eat 
and the state of our digestion greatly affect 
the character of our dreams. 

This has long been recognized by those who 
try to decipher special significance in dreams. 
Twenty-five centuries ago Pythagoras believed 
that the gas-generating beans destroyed the 
chance of having enlightening or important 
dreams, and so forbade their use. In similar 
fashion interpreters of dreams were warned 
by Artemidorus to inquire first whether the 
dreamer had eaten heartily or lightly before 
falling asleep; while Philostratus maintained 
that skillful interpreters always refused to ex- 
pound dreams following the use of wine. 

Thus we see that even in ancient times the 
relation between eating and sleeping was recog- 
nized. In more modern days it is recorded that 
poets and writers had visions from eating raw 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 103 

flesh, while Mrs. BadclifTe, author of " The 
Mysteries of Udolpho," is said to have delib- 
erately induced horrid dream phantoms by sup- 
ping late on indigestible food as a means of 
getting " printer's copy." 

De Quincey's " Confessions " is a monument 
to the beauty and the horror of the dreams 
from drugs. There is also reason to think that 
the terrors of delirium tremens are true 
dreams. John B. Grough described from fear- 
ful experience the agony of seeing and feeling 
that which is dreadful, mainly because the suf- 
ferer knows that it, nevertheless, does not ex- 
ist and could not exist. This can be explained, 
in our present state of knowledge, only by the 
supposition that the subconscious mind, uncor- 
rected and unrestrained by the senses, alone is 
awake. Boris Sidis shows that we have no 
waking remembrance of many of our dreams, 
even of most harassing ones. 

It is probable that perfect sleep is undis- 
turbed by dreams, pleasant or otherwise. 
Dreams are an evidence of the semi-conscious 
condition of some of the senses; the objective 
mind is no longer in control, but is passive, and 
the subjective mind is active. Yet while 
dreaming, the objective mind is not so com- 
pletely unconscious (as it would be if wrapped 
in profound slumber) but that it gets glimpses 
of the workings of the subjective mind, often 
very distorted glimpses. This frequently leads 



104 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

to horrible or impossible situations in dreams. 

It is an interesting question how far we are 
responsible for our dreams. It is true in 
dreams, as in waking, that from the same sen- 
sations individuals will evolve different results, 
just as nasturtiums, drawing nourishment from 
the same soil, will put forth blossoms of dif- 
ferent color and odor. The factor that changes 
these same elements into different results is 
something inherent in the individual person or 
plant. 

So that we are not entirely responsible for 
what we dream, yet the mental habits, the real 
tone of mind maintained during waking hours, 
has its effect upon dreams. They constitute an 
index of the mind. So far as sleep is con- 
cerned, of course, " subjective " mind is sim- 
ply our remembered experiences, our mental 
capital, and can be used in waking hours and 
is constantly so used: we get traces of these 
in our dreams. Age, sex, and temperament also 
affect the nature of dreams. 

If then our sleep is disturbed by unpleasant 
dreams, it becomes necessary to investigate the 
causes. Have we eaten too much or too hur- 
riedly? Are our innermost thoughts clean and 
wholesome, fit for the light of day? Eoman 
philosophers held that he who wished to obtain 
knowledge of the will of any of the gods, must 
fast and lie down to sleep beside the shrine of 
the god, his thoughts filled with longing and 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 105 

desire for such knowledge. There is more than 
mere superstition in that. If we abstain from 
all excesses and are filled with desire to know 
the will of the gods, dreams, when they come 
to us, will not disturb or distress us. 

Dreams are admittedly sometimes prophetic, 
or have at least an indirect significance touch- 
ing events not yet come to pass. Galen tells of 
a man who dreamed that his leg had turned to 
stone, and a few days later found his leg 
paralyzed, perhaps an instance of auto-sugges- 
tion. Gessner died from a malignant growth 
which developed in his breast in the exact 
spot where, a few nights previously, he had 
dreamed that a serpent bit him; while Aris- 
tides, dreaming that he was wounded in the 
knee by a bull, awoke to find a tumor there. 

These and many better authenticated cases of 
dream warnings are not so strange as they 
seem at first hearing. They may be explained 
largely by the fact that remote and vague sen- 
sations of suffering and disease are able to 
make deeper impression upon the mind when 
the interests and activities of the waking life 
are submerged in sleep. 

The duration of dreams is another matter of 
great interest. Most persons feel and say 
that they " dreamed all night long," and will 
proceed to support their statement by relating 
various incidents of their dreams; their pro- 
longed sensations of pleasure or horror; the 



106 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

events that perhaps covered years. Yet, in 
reality, the dream may have occupied less than 
a minute. The dreamer cannot measure the 
time spent in dreaming, for the unconscious 
condition of the objective mind obliterates the 
sense of time, space or material limitations. 
This accounts for the prodigious feats, the mar- 
vels and impossible achievements of dreams 
that seem to the dreamer in no way dispro- 
portionate. 

What we do know is that some of the most 
wonderful dreams have occupied but a few mo- 
ments, and so far scientific research seems to 
limit them to an hour or two at most. Mo- 
hammed's dream was completed within the time 
occupied by a falling vase; and it is on record 
that a man fell asleep just as the clock struck 
the first stroke of twelve and awoke in a cold 
sweat on the last stroke, having dreamed that 
he had spent thirty years in prison, suffering 
tortures of mind and body. 

All this makes it easy to understand how, to 
an infinite mind, a thousand years may be as 
one day and one day as a thousand years, and 
how, in our degree, the quiet, self-controlled 
mind may be unmoved by time. 

It is the vivid impression made by such 
dreams that makes us feel that they must have 
lasted a long time. Then, as George Trumbull 
Ladd says, the recital of our dreams is often 
colored, unconsciously, " by our self-conscious 



THE GIFT OP SLEEP 107 

and rational waking life when we bring the 
scene before the awakened mind." In other 
words, many sensations that we think we ex- 
perienced are heightened by the idea in the ob- 
jective mind of what such sensations ought 
to be. 
It may be that when the time comes that 

" No one shall work for money 

And no one shall work for fame," 

we shall find light and help in our dreams that 
is undreamed of now. 



CHAPTEE XXI 

KATURAL. LIVING 

Sleep, the saint that evil thoughts and aims 
Takest away, and into souls dost creep, 
Like to a breeze from heaven. 

Wordsworth. 

HE who would get the benefit of sleep must 
look after health. 

Health, after all, is merely that condition 
where all parts of the human organism work 
together without friction. We think of health 
as something that is bestowed upon us from 
without ; something over which we have no con- 
trol and almost no influence. Perhaps this 
queer idea is partly responsible for the general 
lack of health to-day. 

It seems incredible that it is necessary that 
human beings endowed with tremendous ca- 
pacity for enjoyment, with everything at hand 
to enjoy, should be hindered by a mere lack 
of that harmony that we call health from fully 
enjoying life. It seems only reasonable that 
there must be some explanation of lack of 
health and some way of escape from it. 

It is now generally admitted that most of the 

108 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 109 

diseases to which man thinks himself heir are 
due to improper, unnatural living. It could 
safely be added that the remainder of our ill- 
health and distress comes in large part from 
improper, unnatural thinking. 

The common man may laugh at the idea that 
we make our own ill-health; if you were not 
more intelligent than the common man, you 
would not read this book, so that you will prob- 
ably see at once that your own experience has 
taught you the truth of it. You will discover 
that you have learned for yourself, albeit for 
the most part unconsciously, that what a man 
thinks about, that he becomes. So it would seem 
that the natural and proper thing to do, if we 
find ourselves suffering from sleeplessness and 
ill-health, is to look after our way of living and 
thinking. 

Medical science was once the attempt to cure 
disease; as Dr. Woods Hutchinson says, it is 
now coming to be the science of preventing 
disease, and everything that tends to that end 
is properly a part of the science of medicine, 
though it have no connection with the myriad 
drugs of the pharmacopoeia. 

Until we compare conditions to-day with 
those of even fifty years ago, we can form no 
idea of our rapid strides toward natural living. 
If we walk the streets of the city or the roads 
of suburban towns and villages very early in 
the morning, at any season of the year, we shall 



110 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

find the vast majority of the houses with open 
windows. It is true that the opening may not 
always be very wide, but they are open. Fifty 
years ago all would have been closed. 

Within the recollection of those whose memo- 
ries go back a quarter of a century, we were 
taught that night air was dangerous to breathe 
and was to be completely shut out from our 
houses. Now we know that the organism needs 
fresh air by night as well as by day, and that 
the most dangerous thing about night air is 
the lack of it. 

We now treat the most dreaded diseases, 
pneumonia and tuberculosis, almost wholly by 
fresh air and nourishing food, administering 
drugs only to check the symptoms until the sys- 
tem gets into condition to throw them off. More 
than that, we know now that consumption, at 
least, is not a mysterious dispensation of Provi- 
dence visited upon certain people without re- 
gard to individual responsibility. Eather it is 
always the result of improper living or think- 
ing, or both, and, when it is the scourge of a 
district, as in thickly settled city slums, it is 
the direct result of monopoly and oppression 
that deny the common interests of all mankind. 

In 1865 Dr. W. W. Hall of New York pub- 
lished his book, " Sleep,' ' in the preface of 
which he said: " It is the end and aim of this 
book to show that as a means of high health, 
good blood, and a strong mind to old and young, 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 111 

sick or well, each one should have a single bed 
in a large, clean, light room, so as to pass all 
the hours of sleep in a pure, fresh air, and that 
those who fail in this, will in the end fail in 
health and strength of limb and brain, and will 
die while yet their days are not all told." 

That this physician with a large practice 
should find it necessary to write a book to set 
forth the necessity of fresh air during sleep- 
ing-hours, goes to show how little the mass of 
our people knew even fifty years ago. We hear 
so much about fresh air in these days that we 
forget that the preceding generation was in 
deadly terror of it. 

All things point to a marked advance during 
the past decades, in the understanding of con- 
ditions necessary for health, but, after all, we 
have come but a very little way along the road 
we must travel to get the most out of life. 

We owe a good deal of our advance in this 
direction to physicians and others who have 
broken loose from traditions and have not 
feared to put their ideas and discoveries to the 
test. Nature has provided all things for " the 
healing of the nations," if we but trust her. As 
Dr. Shattuck, a famous Boston surgeon, used 
to say in making his rounds in the Massachu- 
setts General Hospital, " There is one ines- 
timable gift God has given to man — an abun- 
dance of fresh air." It was his method of 
announcing that he did not think the ventilation 



112 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

of room or ward was sufficient, and the nurses 
understood that, and immediately admitted 
more air into the room. 

In the wards of that great institution were 
dozens of persons who had never before heard 
of the value of fresh air: being compelled by 
evil social conditions to live in districts where 
sunshine and air were rarities, they had never 
heard of any relation between health and fresh 
air. They frequently learned that lesson there. 

A little device which we call " the Perfect 
Gift of Sleep " is a great help in excluding the 
light without excluding the air, and especially 
valuable in that most delightful change, sleep- 
ing out of doors. A bag is made of dark green 
or blue or black silk or satin, about four inches 
wide and eight inches long, and very loosely 
filled with sweet pine needles. It is laid lightly 
over the eyes. 

This may seem too trivial to bother about, 
but the increased comfort and the better qual- 
ity of sleep which it brings is astonishing. 



CHAPTER XXII 

FRESH AIR AND REFRESHING SLEEP 

Somnus, that walks the world from twilights' wane 
All the night long till day be born again. 

Edgar Fawcett. 

TT is not so necessary now as when Dr. Hall 
-*• wrote to urge the importance of large, airy 
sleeping-rooms. But it is amazing to find how 
many, even among the so-called " better 
classes," neglect to open their windows wide 
at night. I have known people out in the coun- 
try whose bedroom windows could hardly be 
made to open, so seldom did they admit the air. 
Indeed, they were also heavily shaded so that 
they might not admit the sunshine. 

That such people have been able to live at 
all is due to the patience of Nature, or to the 
fact that so much of the day is spent in the 
open air that it helps to counteract the effect 
of the closed-up night. Even then they do not 
escape early wrinkles, bent shoulders, and a 
look of age long before their time. We used 
to attribute these to the hard work of the 
farmer's life, but we might more properly at- 
tribute it to improper living. 

Besides an abundance of fresh air day and 

113 



114 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

night, summer and winter, personal cleanliness 
immensely aids to health and the ability to 
sleep. In the old days we bathed to clean our- 
selves when dirty. It was an advance on that 
when someone said he took a bath every spring 
and fall, whether he needed it or not. In those 
days once a week was considered frequent. 
To-day we bathe to keep clean. 

Someone, probably Joseph Fels, has said that 
the civilization of a people may best be esti- 
mated by the amount of soap and water it con- 
sumes. If we start out well-groomed in the 
morning — fresh from the bath with clean linen, 
clothes brushed and all our personal needs duly 
attended to — we carry our heads higher, feel 
an uplift of body and mind that is impossible 
to the careless or untidy person. 

The same influence applies to going to bed 
at night. If we retire soiled and worn from the 
day's experiences, we may toss and turn with 
discomfort whose source we may not under- 
stand, or we fall into heavy, unref reshing sleep. 
The body does most of its breathing during 
sleeping-time. You know how the moisture 
from the breath shows on a mirror when you 
breathe on it: well, the skin gives off about 
three times as much moisture as the breath, 
and, unless the pores of the skin are free from 
all obstructions such as dust, old, dried perspi- 
ration, and similar soil, it cannot perform its 
work properly and to the advantage of the 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 115 

sleeper. If you don't like water, use oil as the 
Easterns do. Even dry rubbing, if the skin is 
moist, will keep the pores open. 

The little trouble entailed is more than offset 
by the refreshed feeling, the lightening of the 
mind as well as of the body, the more restful 
sleep, and the better health resulting from the 
practice. 

One of the advantages of the night bath is 
that it reminds us to change all the clothes we 
have worn during the day. If they must be 
worn again the next day, they should be spread 
out on the backs of chairs or on hangers, that 
they may be thoroughly aired before morning. 
If we feel that we must have something more 
than the pajamas or night-robe, then there 
should be separate sets of underclothes kept 
for that purpose alone — old, thin, partly- worn 
ones may be reserved for this use. 

Whether baths should be hot, warm, or cold 
must depend upon the individual. There is no 
set rule that applies equally to all persons. 
Many persons find the cold plunge or shower 
most invigorating in the morning, — it is too 
stimulating to be taken at night — and others 
cannot stand the shock of contact with cold wa- 
ter at any time. There is but one wise thing 
to do — to experiment for yourself and adopt the 
sort of bath that seems best suited to your 
needs. Most people will find the warm bath 
more satisfactory than the hot or cold. 



116 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

And remember that it is not only the lungs 
that need fresh air : the skin needs it too, and, 
next to overeating, the quickest way to ' ' catch * ' 
cold is to bundle up in heavy perspiration- 
holding flannels. Linen mesh is excellent, but, 
whatever underclothing is worn, it should not 
suffocate the millions of pores of the skin. 

An airy room, free from hangings, carpets, 
street clothes, and all other dust-gatherers; a 
clean body; a contented mind — these are im- 
portant factors both in sleep and in general 
health, and, best of all, they are inexpensive 
enough to be within the reach of nearly every- 
body. 



CHAPTER XXin 

THE BBEATH OF LIFE 

In winter I get up at night 
And dress by yellow candle-light. 
In summer, quite the other way, 
I have to go to bed by day. 

I have to go to bed and see 
The birds still hopping on the tree, 
Or hear the grown-up people's feet 
Still going past me in the street. 

And does it not seem hard to you, 
When all the sky is clear and blue, 
And I should like so much to play, 
To have to go to bed by day? 

" Bed in Summer." 

Robebt Louis Stevenson. 

/^~\NE of the most common causes of ill- 
^-^ health and sleeplessness is improper 
breathing. Breathing is the fundamental func- 
tion of life, the first at birth and the last at 
death, and when it is badly performed we are 
sure to have trouble. The great majority of 
people never use the whole of their lungs in 
breathing. By this neglect the blood is never 
sufficiently oxygenated to burn out all im- 
purities. 

117 



118 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

But you may say, ' ' I am not responsible for 
the way I breathe ; I do that ' i automatically, ' ' 
and you would be in a degree correct. It is 
true that we are not conscious of the act of 
breathing. It would be an intolerable burden 
upon the mind if every breath required con- 
scious attention. We could hardly attend to 
anything else. 

That is no reason, however, why we should 
not regulate our breathing for our own benefit. 
Breathing, though an habitual organic act, is 
under the indirect control of the higher centers 
of the nervous system. We must, as Dr. 
Worcester says, re-educate the lower centers to 
breathe, and to do this it is necessary to give 
conscious attention to it for a time. If we wish 
to replace bad breathing by good breathing, we 
must fix our attention regularly upon drawing 
the breath, practice the right sort of breathing, 
and impress upon the vital mechanism that 
this new order of breathing is to be adopted, 
for the way to be rid of a bad habit is to re- 
place it with a good one. If we persevere in 
this course, the right method can very easily be 
established. 

By the right method is meant breathing from 
the diaphragm. If you will watch the act of 
breathing among your friends for even one day, 
you will discover for yourself how few do it 
well. The great majority breathe with the 
upper part of the lungs only, so that the chest 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 119 

visibly rises and falls in time with the inhala- 
tions and exhalations. Such persons may be 
unconscious of their own breathing, but they 
make all who observe them conscious of it. 
They are not only injuring themselves, but mak- 
ing a claim upon the attention of others that is 
scarcely justifiable. 

Quick, short breathing is one of the signs 
either of excitement or of depression, some 
pleasurable or painful emotion or sensation, 
but it is not a means to health. If we have this 
habit, we may find in it an explanation of many 
of the trifling ills and discomforts from which 
we sutler, and of not a few of the more serious 
ones. 

Emily M. Bishop, who has given much study 
to the effect of our habits of mind and body 
upon our health and spirits, says, in her latest 
book, " Daily Ways of Living,' ' that we may 
change the whole current of our thought by a 
change in breathing. She wisely advises her 
readers the next time they feel depressed or 
worried, ' ' blue, " or " miserable, ' ' to try draw- 
ing deep, full breaths. If you are not in good 
spirits, try that now: " spirit " means the 
breath. 

Open the windows and let in fresh air, if 
within doors; inhale deeply, hold it, and then 
exhale rather quickly. After only four or five 
such inhalations you will find that the miser- 
able feeling has disappeared or is greatly les- 



120 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

sened. The " blues " cannot live while good 
red blood is circulating rapidly through the 
veins and arteries. It is only when the blood is 
sluggish or not sufficiently purified by the in- 
drawn oxygen that worry and depression can 
hold us in their thrall. Deep breathing is a sim- 
ple remedy for the blues, but its effectiveness 
makes it worth trying. 

Proper breathing will often ward off a cold, 
especially a cold due to chill. As soon as you 
feel yourself getting chilly, act. The feeling of 
chilliness is a proof that the resistance of 
the body is below normal. The cause may 
be interior, due to the presence of some 
poison in the system, or it may be due en- 
tirely to external causes. In either event, 
to purify the blood and improve its circula- 
tion is the best sort of " first aid to the 
injured/ ' 

Inhale until you can feel it in your fingers 
and toes, exhale quickly, and repeat the opera- 
tion until you feel all aglow. Mile. Marie de 
Palkowska, whose special work is teaching cor- 
rect breathing, says: " The nerve centers are 
directly affected by the condition of the blood, 
and they are enfeebled, contracted, or irritated 
by an excess of carbon and nitrogen in it, pro- 
ducing depression of spirits; but, if the blood 
is circulating freely, the nerves are quieted 
and well-nourished by the supply of oxygen, 
through the process of correct breathing, and 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 121 

the result is perfect health of mind and body 
and a happy optimism. ' ' 

Worry, sleeplessness, and disease do not 
easily lay hold upon one who has " perfect 
health of mind and body and a happy op- 
timism.' ' If these may be secured through in- 
telligent attention to breathing, there is no rea- 
son why they should not be as common as they 
are natural. The more we look into the ques- 
tion of health, whether physical, mental, or 
moral, the more clearly we see that poise is 
only possible through conformity to universal 
law. It could not be otherwise. 

Earlier in this inquiry we have traced the 
interdependence, the unity of man's three na- 
tures — the physical, the mental, and the spir- 
itual, — and the value of correct breathing to the 
whole man is in perfect keeping with that inter- 
dependence. In the process of digestion, upon 
which physical health so largely depends, we 
create poisons within ourselves and accumulate 
waste matter. The organism must be momently 
purified of these wastes, or putrefaction quickly 
follows. Autotoxins form, as the doctors say. 
The function of breathing, when properly con- 
trolled, affords the quickest and best method 
of cleansing the blood of these impurities. If 
we have not this proper control, the poisons 
are not eliminated and the supply of blood to 
the brain is vitiated. 

Just as the body cannot perform its functions 



122 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

well if we are compelled to live upon tainted 
food, so the brain cannot do its work well if 
the blood — its food — is impure. Breathing 
which expands the diaphragm so purifies the 
blood as it passes through the lungs, that it be- 
comes an important factor in maintaining 
health and poise in body and mind, which in 
their turn react upon the spirit. 

This sort of breathing is more common 
among men than among women, due in part to 
natural physical differences and in part to 
dress. Man breathes largely from the abdo- 
men, while woman breathes chiefly from the 
chest, expanding only the upper portion of the 
lungs. This is partly a natural and 
partly an artificial necessity, due to the pres- 
sure of the corset upon the diaphragm. Both 
men and women would find their physical 
health improved and their outlook on life 
broadened and brightened by proper control of 
the function of breathing. If we are sleepless, 
nervous, too alert, as well as if we are heavy, 
dull, and inactive, we will find it worth our 
while to try conscious breath control. It takes 
but a comparatively short time to re-educate 
the automatic centers into correct breathing 
and the result is always good. 

It no less behooves the man who is trying to 
live largely on the rational plane, than the 
man who is living wholly on the physical plane, 
to make his efforts both easier and more ef- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 123 

fective by such simple attention to natural laws. 
The next time you are worried, depressed, or 
sleepless, change the air of the room and try 
deep and correct breathing for a few minutes. 
You will be surprised at the complete change 
wrought in you, if you are not suffering from 
some serious organic breakdown which needs 
skilled attention. And even that condition may 
be helped by proper breathing. 

But we are not to forget that, like cali sthenic 
and gymnastic exercises, the training of the 
breathing is really little more than a device for 
correcting the results of wrong living and only 
a substitute for right living. The man or the 
woman who does plenty of healthful, normal 
work, who often pants and gets " out of 
breath,' ' naturally expands the lungs and has 
as little use for breathing exercises as for tight 
clothing. 

A buck-saw, a spade, or even a broom is bet- 
ter than a teacher of breathing and a better 
Corrector of sleeplessness. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

EATING AND SLEEPING 

For his sleep 
"Was aery light, from pure digestion bred. 

Milton. 

'I \ J"El do not have to depend upon mere irre- 
* * sponsible guesses for the new faith in 
the possibility of longer life for man. Scien- 
tists have been experimenting along this line 
for some years, and Metchnikoff assures us that 
the average human life should exceed " three- 
score years and ten " by four decades. 

He points out that the greatly increased num- 
ber of persons who remain physically and men- 
tally active past the age of seventy-five and 
eighty years is itself a proof that life may be 
prolonged. He recognizes that merely to ex- 
tend existence is not a sufficient end to work 
for — it must be an active, worthwhile existence, 
and he has experimented toward this end. 

All of us can recall instances of " old peo- 
ple " who have preserved their physical and 
mental faculties until their last years. We have 
been in the habit of regarding these people as 
exceptions and have perhaps not noticed that 

124 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 125 

these " exceptions " are already almost fre- 
quent enough to prove that there is no such 
rule for longevity. 

Whenever we investigate a new and wonder- 
ful thing, we find that its causes are simple and 
ordinary. So Metchnikoff and kindred experi- 
menters are beginning to show us that prolong- 
ing life is a comparatively simple matter. It 
comes back again to diet and sleep on the 
physical side and to understanding of the uni- 
versal laws on the mental and the emotional 
side of life. 

All scientific men agree that nearly all of us 
eat too much, or eat improper food. Most 
of them say that we sleep too much, or try to 
sleep too much. They advise simple diet, va- 
ried but not heavy. It is probable that the 
early human being ate as the wild animals do, 
to appease hunger, and had to eat whatever he 
could find without regard to taste. As civiliza- 
tion advanced and he learned ways of getting 
increased returns from Nature, he began to se- 
lect and choose what he should eat. In this 
way he developed " appetite " as apart from 
natural hunger, and as his knowledge increased, 
and his taste became more and more refined, ap- 
petite gradually took the place of hunger. 

People ordinarily seldom know the pleasure 
of satisfying real hunger. Because of habit, 
the appetite stirs as often as three or five times 
a day and we gratify it. We must have certain 



126 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

foods prepared in a certain way. Eating be- 
comes an end in itself, rather than merely a 
means to an end. If appetite is fully indulged, 
he becomes heavy, suffers from indigestion and 
sleeplessness, talks of stomach trouble and con- 
sequent " loss of appetite.' ' He seeks a phy- 
sician to restore what he is really better with- 
out. Not every physician is as wise as the one 
to whom a cook once applied. She told her 
story of inability to eat her meals, of uncertain 
and unrestful sleep, increased weight, and 
shortness of breath. The physician heard her 
tale of woe and asked her the size of the family 
for which she cooked and about their mode of 
living. He learned that the family consisted of 
five, and that they entertained lavishly. " Do 
you taste all the food you prepare? " was the 
next question. 

" Yes, sir; I must taste it to be sure it is 
just right.' ' 

" Ah! " replied the doctor; " put on a plate 
exactly the same quantity of everything that 
you take to taste — no more, no less — and send 
it to me to-morrow evening." 

Much to the cook's astonishment, at the close 
of the next day, which had included a dinner- 
party, there was a heaping platter of food, 
more than she would have thought it possible 
to eat even at three meals. 

*' It is not a tonic you want," said the phy- 
sician. " You already eat too much, which ac- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 127 

counts for your loss of appetite, shortness of 
breath, and sleeplessness. It may be necessary 
for you to taste all the food you cook, but take 
smaller ' tastes ' and eat nothing else on cook- 
ing days. I cannot help you; you must help 
yourself." (Being an ignorant woman, she 
went to another doctor and got some ill-tasting 
drug.) 

And such is, after all, the decision of all the 
scientific investigators into the life and health 
of men: We must help ourselves by under- 
standing the laws of life and observing them. 

Most rich persons are really like the man 
who applied to his physician about " loss of ap- 
petite. " " Try beginning dinner with raw oys- 
ters," said the doctor. In a few days the 
patient returned, to say that the oysters did no 
good. 

" Maybe you didn't eat enough? " said the 
doctor. 

11 Well," said the man, " I ate four dozen." 



CHAPTER XXV 

SLEEPING AND EATING 

Man's rich restorative, his balmy bath 
That supplies, lubricates and keeps in play 
The various movements of this nice machine. 

Young. 

"nPHERE are more things in heaven and 
**■ earth than are dreamt of " in anybody's 
philosophy or understanding of living ; it is not 
strange that the great mass have not dreamed 
of eating as a cause of sleeplessness and ill- 
health, though they may dream in consequence 
of it. It is generally believed that a hearty 
meal of any indigestible food immediately be- 
fore bed is bad for sleep: yet animals and 
primitive men always sleep after they are 
gorged. But few recognize that the whole plan 
of eating may be responsible for sleeplessness 
or excessive sleepiness. For, like fatigue, food 
may either bring or prevent sleep. 

In these days not even the most fastidious 
will object to a discussion of the ethics and 
aesthetics of feeding. It is no longer " the 
gratification of a vulgar necessity," but a mat- 
ter of keen scientific interest. Colleges give 
courses in the chemistry of food that we may 

128 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 129 

know what combinations it is wise to make, 
while some of the leading universities have 
made severe practical tests of some of the new 
" fads in eating.' ' 

There are so many theories of eating to-day 
that one may take his choice, and, if the quality 
of both health and sleep is not improved, he 
can run through the list and then take what is 
best of each. 

When Dr. W. W. Hall wrote his book on fresh 
air in the sleeping-room, he added, in a casual 
sort of way, this piece of advice to the would-be 
sleeper, ' ' Always eat slowly and in moderation 
of well-divided food. ' ' That is advice that will 
bear infinite repetition. It is really the keynote 
of all the present-day theories of eating. It ap- 
plies equally well to omnivorous and vegetarian 
peoples. 

Horace Fletcher says, " You may eat any- 
thing you like, if you eat it at the right time and 
in the right way," and, when one has learned 
what Mr. Fletcher thinks is the right time and 
way, one has grasped the whole of " Fletcher- 
ism." It consists in eating only when one is 
hungry — so hungry that " the mouth waters 
and one could stand and whinny like a horse 
at the smell of bread ' 9 — and then chewing just 
as long as there is any taste left to the food. I 
have known children to get the habit of eating 
too fast, with indigestion and restlessness as a 
consequence, because the nurse stood beside the 



130 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

table with a spoonful always ready and waiting 
while the last was being swallowed. We may 
avoid that habit for ourselves or cure ourselves 
of it by always laying down the knife and fork 
or spoon after each mouthful. This insures 
some time to chew. 

It is the opinion of all those who have special 
theories on " what to eat and how to eat it " 
that civilized man scarcely knows what true 
hunger is. We are so in the habit of eating 
at fixed and customary hours that we create 
" habit hunger," which has but slight connec- 
tion with Nature's demands for sustenance. In 
accordance with this idea, fasting is again be- 
coming popular and all sorts of good results 
are claimed for it. The " devil of unrest and 
disease " is now being reckoned among " those 
that go not out but by fasting and prayer." 
Fasting and prayer meant the physical and the 
spiritual treatment together. 

Fasting has long been imposed upon man as 
a religious rite, generally as penance for some 
" sin," but now it is being advised and self- 
imposed for the sake of its physical advan- 
tages. It may well be that the habit of fasting 
for health's sake originated with prehistoric 
man and was diverted into religious channels 
and its original significance forgotten. So 
many " religious rites " have come about in 
this way that it is fair to assume that fasting 
may have, also. 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 131 

However that may be, the practice is coming 
into scientific prominence, and Charles C. Has- 
kell in his book, ' i Perfect Health : How to Get 
it and How to Keep it, by One Who Has It," 
made much of the importance of fasting. If 
one is ill, fasting will make him well, accord- 
ing to Mr. Haskell. He gives numerous in- 
stances of the benefits that have followed fasts 
extending from one to nine or even more days. 
Mr. Upton Sinclair has written of his happy ex- 
perience of abstinence in ' ' The Fasting Cure. ' ' 
As soon as the system is ready for food, true 
hunger will appear, says Mr. Haskell, and, like 
Mr. Fletcher, he regards " watering at the 
mouth " — the free flow of saliva — as the best 
index of real hunger. 

But, unlike Fletcher, Haskell is a vegetarian 
pure and simple, as that word is generally un- 
derstood. Haskell says, " Nature has provided 
a natural food for man, and it is the vegetable 
kingdom." He also strongly urges upon the 
seeker for sound health, which means sound 
sleep, to give up the habit of taking breakfast, 
thus conquering appetite and restoring real 
hunger. This is, indeed, the first precept he 
lays down; and the second is much like it. It 
runs, " Never eat except at the call of Natural 
Hunger." Third, " Enjoy to the full every 
mouthful of food as long as any taste remains 
in it." Fourth, " Do not drink any liquids 
with your meals." 



132 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

The rules are simple enough to follow if you 
have any cause to suspect that your mode of 
life is the cause of " poor sleep.' This book 
has no special brand of food to recommend, nor 
does it intend to say what any man should or 
should not eat. Sir Henry Thompson is. about 
right when he says that " No man can tell an- 
other what he can or ought to eat, without 
knowing what are the habits of life and work — 
mental and bodily — of the person to be advised. 
One rule cannot apply to all." 

All that the writer aims to do is to set forth 
the best theories of how to insure sound sleep 
and good health, and to leave it to the indi- 
vidual reader to try whichever he thinks fits. 
It is what he will do, anyway, if he is a wise 
man; for only by following the course he most 
desires can he learn whether these desires are 
to be trusted as guides to happiness and well- 
being. 

But — most persons eat too much or too often 
or too fast. Maybe you do, too. 



CHAPTER XXVI 

SOME MODERN THEORIES OF SLEEP 

I have an exposition of sleep come npon me. 

Shakespeare. 

rilHERE have been almost as many theories 
*■ of sleep and its causes as there have 
been investigators, but these theories may be 
grouped under a few main heads : 

Physiological, or that which has to do with 
some bodily conditions only, and which made 
men think that sleep was dependent upon the 
circulation of the blood or upon decreased con- 
sumption of oxygen, was an early one of these 
theories. It has had many advocates and has 
led to many interesting experiments that have 
increased the sum of general knowledge, al- 
though they have not explained sleep. 

Delicate instruments, with formidable names, 
have been invented and successfully used to 
measure the intensity of sleep and to note its 
phenomena. Two of the experimenters — C. E. 
Brush, Jr., and R. Fayerweather of the Physio- 
logical Laboratory of Johns Hopkins Univer- 
sity — through long, intricate and exhaustive 
experiments, have found that sleep is most in- 

133 



134 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

tense and the pressure of blood in the arteries 
lowest during the first half of the sleeping 
period. After we have completed the first half 
of our sleep, the intensity or soundness of sleep 
becomes less, and the pressure of blood in the 
arteries continues to increase up to the moment 
of awaking. 

It is interesting to learn that the moment 
when we are most soundly sleeping is at the 
end of the first hour of sleep, and that the 
blood-pressure has at that time reached its very 
lowest point. Messrs. Brush and Fayerweather 
report that, during the first few hours of sleep, 
the blood-pressure continues to fall and then 
begins a gradual rise. The tendency is to more 
and more rapid flow of the blood, but this rise 
is not steady or regular, because it is broken 
by long waves when the force of the circula- 
tion falls and the pulse is weaker than it was a 
moment or two before. The rapidity of the 
blood-flow is greater on the moment of awak- 
ening than just before dropping to sleep. This 
increase is not sudden, but is the culmination of 
the rise that begins a few hours after we fall 
asleep. (See Appendix B.) 

The intensity or depth of sleep is shown by 
a curve that looks like a pile of sand with 
the top scooped off. It increases rather slowly, 
in most cases, for the first quarter-hour: then 
quickly, so that half an hour later the person 
is most " sound asleep." He stays so, on the 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 135 

level top, for about half an hour. That is the 
time that wise burglars and late husbands 
choose to steal into the house, about an hour 
after everyone is asleep. After that time the 
sleeper reverses the process of falling into deep 
sleep by getting nearer to waking for half an 
hour and then getting, at first rapidly, nearer 
to waking for two or three hours. In the last 
three or four hours healthy and normal persons 
reach about the same proportions of time and 
intensity of sleep, so that the Indian-bow-shaped 
curve fairly represents how long it takes every- 
body to deepen his sleep. Kohlschutter found 
how great an intensity of sound was needed to 
awaken a sleeper at different periods through- 
out the night. His curve thus made tallies very 
exactly with that of Brush and Fayerweather, 
obtained in quite a different way. 

Some other investigators have pointed out 
that, interesting as this theory is, it proves one 
thing about as completely as it does the other. 
For, while it is plain that sleep and the great 
fall in blood-pressure exist at the same mo- 
ment, it is not conclusively shown which is 
cause and which is effect. Does sleep cause the 
fall in blood-pressure, or does the fall in blood- 
pressure cause sleep? The two are coexistent, 
but who can say which begins first! 

It looks as if sleep might be more justly con- 
sidered the cause, if one takes the sleeping- 
position, and maintains the attitude of mind 



136 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

suitable to induce sleep, blood-pressure grows 
less, even though the patient does not actually 
fall asleep. 

Under this physiological view must come 
also the chemical theory based on the fact that 
we consume more oxygen during the day, thus 
forming carbon dioxide and other poisons 
which cause sleepiness. During the night we 
absorb oxygen, building up the tissues, and 
eliminating the poisons of the waking hours. 

The poisons which are the result of the con- 
sumption of oxygen cause fatigue, and accord- 
ing to Preyer, a European authority, ' ' sleep is 
the direct consequence of fatigue, or rather of 
the fatigue products in the blood.' ' His con- 
tention is that, if lactic acid and other chemical 
products of the consumption of oxygen in the 
body were injected artificially, sleep would fol- 
low. Experiments in this direction made by 
Preyer, Fisher, and L. Meyer have yielded such 
contradictory results that the theory is not 
proved thereby. 

The idea that sleep is the result of poisons 
in the system takes us into the pathological 
theory of sleep, which regards it as a sort of 
disease like epilepsy or auto-intoxication. We 
produce by our own activities the poisons which 
cause insensibility until the system cleanses it- 
self. Professor Leo Errera of Brussels says 
that " work in the organism is closely bound 
up with a chemical breaking down." Among 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 137 

the products of this breakdown are " leuco- 
maines," the scientific name for poisons formed 
in living tissue, and just the opposite to " pto- 
maines/ ' which, however, are also virulent 
poisons. 

Professor Errera tells us that, during our 
waking hours, we produce more leucomaines 
than the oxygen we absorb can destroy. This 
excess is carried along by the blood and held by 
the brain centers, and in time produces sleep, 
just as any poisonous anaesthetic, such as mor- 
phine, would produce sleep. 

While we are sleeping we absorb much oxy- 
gen and we recover from the effects of our 
self -intoxication. Errera maintains that work, 
fatigue, sleep, and repair are not merely suc- 
cessive events, but phenomena chained together 
in a regular and necessary cycle. He explains 
sleeplessness due to overfatigue on the theory 
that small doses of poisons induce sleep and 
large doses induce excitement and even con- 
vulsions. 

Manaceine points out that this theory is good 
from a purely physical standpoint, but does not 
explain our power to postpone sleep or the fac- 
ulty of waking at a fixed hour. We can do both, 
and any adequate theory of sleep must explain 
why we can control the tendency to sleep, but 
cannot control the symptoms of ordinary poi- 
soning. 



CHAPTEE XXVII 

EARLY THEORIES OF SLEEP 

Balm that tames all anguish. 

Wordsworth. 

MR. EDWARD BINNS of London, as early 
as 1842, published a book called " The 
Anatomy of Sleep " — with the subtitle, " The 
Art of Procuring Sound and Refreshing Slum- 
ber at Will." The subtitle makes one think of 
the three-volume novels of that time, but the 
book is fairly concise and worth careful review. 
Moreover, it is in advance of many works on 
sleep both before and after. (For ancient sur- 
mises see Appendix C.) 

One of the favorite medical theories of sleep 
is that it is caused by fatigue, and is, therefore, 
purely passive in its nature. Binns did not ac- 
cept this theory. He said, " Sleep is an active 
and positive faculty, not a negative and passive 
result of fatigue or weariness." Some of the 
more modern writers, notably Manaceine, agree 
with Dr. Binns that sleep is not the result of 
physical fatigue or weariness. Dr. Binns 
thinks that one proof that fatigue can in no 
sense be said to be the cause of sleep is that, 

138 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 139 

if we prolong " the state of wakefulness after 
the usual period of retiring to rest, it is more 
difficult to induce sleep than if we went at the 
usual hour." This is especially true of chil- 
dren, yet the patient may be much more fa- 
tigued at the later hour than at the usual bed- 
time. 

Binns' theory is that physiological sleep is in 
antagonism to intellectual activity, being the 
active process of nutrition, assimilation of 
food, or of the repair of the waste of the body ; 
that it concerns the nerve centers: that is, 
" the ganglionic system.' ' It is a generally ad- 
mitted theory that man's activity, whether 
physical or mental, " uses up " tissue and 
nerve force, and that it is only when repair ex- 
ceeds this waste that life is maintained at a 
high standard. If the activities of life be many 
and varied, much sleep according to this theory 
would be needed to repair the waste of force. 
Experience has shown that those who live 
purely physical lives, doing hard manual labor 
with little mental exercise, need the most sleep. 
Those whose activities are mostly mental gen- 
erally sleep fewer hours, though the desire for 
sleep may be as intense when it comes as is 
that of the manual laborer. (See Appendix, 
Questionnaire.) 

Eegarding sleep as a necessity, in itself an 
" active and positive faculty," Binns says of 
it that " it is the true ■ vis medicatrix naturae ' 



140 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

— the healing force of nature— to whose vigi- 
lance we are indebted for that condition of mind 
and body called l health. ' ' ' However, he is not 
an advocate of long hours of sleep for every- 
body. He thinks individuals differ widely in 
the amount of sleep needed. He makes the gen- 
eral statement that, ' ' the lower the cerebral or- 
gans in the scale of organization, the greater 
the power of sleep.' ' On this point all the au- 
thorities agree, and even in our own experience 
we learn that. The animals nearest to man in 
point of development sleep more than man 
sleeps ; and, among men, those who live the most 
sluggish mental and emotional lives sleep 
longer than those whose brains are more active. 

There may, of course, be exceptions to this 
rule, and yet those exceptions would not dis- 
prove that there is a rule. Much depends, says 
the good doctor, upon the peculiarities ' ' of the 
individual ; the culture of his mind ; his amuse- 
ment, his food, his occupation, and the temper 
with which he wooes sleep. General Elliot 
never slept more than four hours out of twenty- 
four, and his food consisted wholly of bread, 
vegetables, and water.' ' 

This seems like one more link in the chain 
that binds up our habits of eating with our 
power to sleep. Just as heavy eating late at 
night may so disturb our slumber as to leave 
us practically sleepless, so general heavy eat- 
ing may render us so incapable of mental ac- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 141 

tivity that sleep may take possession of us. 
General Elliot's slight need of sleep was prob- 
ably due, in large measure, to his light diet, and 
Dr. Binns seems to be of that opinion. We no- 
tice that flesh-eating animals, especially ser- 
pents, gorge and then sleep long. 

A modern medical authority, Sir Henry 
Thompson of London, in his book, " Diet in 
Relation to Age and Activity, ' ' takes somewhat 
similar ground, although careful to state that 
he is not ' ' a vegetarian. ' ' He says : " I have 
been compelled by facts to accept the conclu- 
sion that as much mischief in the form of actual 
disease, impaired vigor and shortened life ac- 
crues to civilized man, so far as I have observed 
in our own country and throughout almost 
every part of Europe, from erroneous habits in 
eating as from the habitual use of alcoholic 
drink, considerable as I know the evil of that 
to be."* 

* See chap, xxi on " Natural Living." 



CHAPTER XXVIII 

MOEE THEOEIES 

To Sleep I give my powers away 
My will is bondsman to the dark j 
I sit within a helmless bark. 

Tennyson. 

np HERE is another class of investigators who 
-*■ aim to explain what might be called the 
nervous mechanism of sleep rather than its 
causes. These are the histologists, and theirs 
is the " histological " theory of sleep. There 
is a vast literature on this one phase of sleep 
theorizing alone, and it is deeply interesting to 
those who, in order to understand this theory, 
are willing to wrestle with the difficult and tech- 
nical terms. 

The general reader, unfamiliar with physio- 
logical terms, is bewildered by such a word as 
' ' neuroglia. ' ' He wonders what sort of a fossil 
that is, when in fact it is merely a particular 
sort of tissue found in the central nervous sys- 
tem; a substance without any nervous prop- 
erty serving a purpose merely similar to ce- 
ment. So that, after all, like much science, it 
is simple enough when put in plain words. 

142 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 143 

Some histologists hold that the neuroglia is 
able to contract or expand; that, when ex- 
panded, it takes or receives impressions from 
without, and, when it contracts, it shuts out 
such impressions, thus inducing sleep. Dr. J. 
Leonard Corning, of New York, says that 
' ' Sleep may be defined as that state of the cen- 
tral nervous system in which the higher cen- 
ters are, to a great extent, in a condition of 
physiological quiescence, with all the conse- 
quences thereby implied." 

Dr. Corning means that the nervous centers 
of the brain are inactive, as a result of contrac- 
tion, and that this state results in drowsiness 
and in consequent loss of the consciousness. 
He recognizes, however, that this purely phys- 
ical condition does not always produce sleep; 
that there may be disturbing causes within. 
He says: " Those who suffer from sleepless- 
ness are, almost without exception, beset by a 
variety of disagreeable mental symptoms dur- 
ing the day, dread of impending evil, ir- 
ritability, depression, dread of society, etc." 
Although these are often the result of wrong 
states of mind or heart, he recommends for 
such cases warm baths, Turkish baths, massage, 
and for obstinate cases he even suggests the use 
of drugs, because he regards the formation of 
habits of insomnia as more likely than the for- 
mation of the drug habit. This suggestion is 
not generally favored by the investigators of 



144 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

sleep, the most of whom discountenance the use 
of drugs. Almost everyone has known some- 
body who contracted the " drug habit,' ' or has 
heard of somebody who died from the effects of 
an overdose of some poison taken to induce 
sleep. Nobody should dose himself with drugs, 
hoping to get good results from sleep thus se- 
cured. It is wiser by far to discover the cause 
of sleeplessness and remove it, rather than 
merely to stupefy ourselves for the time being. 

It was as a worker along histological lines 
that Henry Hubbard Foster of Cornell Univer- 
sity became convinced that sleep is induced by 
the absence of stimuli : that is, of things that at- 
tract and hold our attention. It may be that the 
individual withdraws from all stimulating con- 
ditions and creates conditions to cause sleep, as 
we do when we prepare for bed; or it may be 
that, because of fatigue, our senses do not re- 
spond to the things that would otherwise stimu- 
late us. In either event, the result is the same — 
there is an absence of stimuli. 

Foster believes that the present state of our 
development is not sufficient to meet the de- 
mands of continuous activity of the senses and 
the brain. "If it were not for fatigue/' lie 
says, " the development of the nervous system 
might be carried to such a point that conscious- 
ness could be present continuously." He finds 
the reason for sleep in " a temporary derange- 
ment of the nervous system." 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 145 

According to Boris Sidis of Harvard, who 
has experimented extensively on frogs, cats, 
birds, dogs, children, and adults, the cells of 
the central nervous system, by expanding and 
contracting, connect themselves with, or cut 
themselves off from the whole nervous sys- 
tem, and induce " waking-states and sleeping- 
states.' ' The purely scientific man is forever 
aiming to reduce all the phenomena of human 
life to a simple formula. But no formula has 
yet been discovered which includes all phases of 
life to the satisfaction of all its students. 
Hence we have so many different theories of 
so natural and universal a function as sleep, 
none of them perfectly satisfactory even to 
their discoverers or inventors, and none afford- 
ing any great help to those who want to know 
how to sleep. 

This whole neuron theory, as it is called, 
of dilating and contracting is really no more 
complete an explanation than any of the oth- 
ers. No perfect explanation of any natural 
function can be given until we can fully explain 
life. That has not yet been done. The most 
advanced biologists can say, " Here life ap- 
pears,' ' but they cannot absolutely define life 
any more than they can create it out of inani- 
mate things. 

We know, however, that in sleep, sight, nearly 
useless to man in the gloom of night, goes 
first to rest. Next taste goes. Then smell, 



146 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

still so useful to animals, deserts us. Then 
touch is dulled. Last of all, the hearing relaxes 
its guard, though with some persons it stays 
long awake. Noise will arouse us quicker than 
a touch; and last the light. 

As you drop off to sleep you can notice the 
decreased sensation in the long-serving feet 
which feels as if it slowly climbs to the muscles 
in the head and neck. 



CHAPTER XXIX 



STILL MORE THEORIES 



Sleep sits upon his brow ; 
His eye is closed; he sleeps, nor dreams of harm. 

Longfellow. 

\A/E have not yet exhausted all the theories, 
* * nor shown how much too much some of 
them and how far too little all of them prove. 
The two remaining scientific theories of sleep 
are the psychological and the biological. The 
best modern exponent of the psychological 
theory is Marie de Manaceine, who defines sleep 
as " the resting-time of consciousness." Per- 
sons whose consciousness is but little developed, 
young children, and those of weak intellect, 
usually require a great deal of sleep, while 
persons whose minds are active, alert, respon- 
sive, get along with comparatively little sleep. 
For a long time it was believed that living 
creatures devoid of consciousness would not 
sleep at all, but recent experiments have 
apparently weakened that conclusion. Dogs, 
pigeons, and other animals deprived of brains 
in the interest of scientific discovery, appear 

147 



148 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

to sleep, that is, they have periods of inactiv- 
ity, just as those with brains and conscious- 
ness. Belmondo, after repeated experiments, 
drew the conclusion that sleep is not a purely 
cerebral function, as some believe, but that the 
whole organism sleeps; and the brain sleeps 
only because the organs of sense sleep. This, 
however, is doubtful. 

And this is in sum and substance the biolog- 
ical theory of sleep, that the whole organism 
sleeps, but even here there are exceptions. It 
is true that the heart beats less rapidly; that 
we breathe less frequently; that the brain cells 
cease their functioning because the neuroglia 
contracts and shuts off or lessens their joint 
activity; the motor consciousness rests; the 
nerves of sensation refuse to be stimulated, we 
sleep. Yet we know that the spinal cord never 
sleeps, that certain functions of the body con- 
tinue uninterruptedly in the sleeping-state as 
in the waking-state, and, after all these years 
of theorizing and experimenting, we do not 
know definitely what sleep is. We know the 
mechanism of sleep, its manifestations and its 
effects; we know that continued sleeplessness 
means madness and death; that sleep is essen- 
tial to the physical and mental well-being of the 
human organism, but we do not know what sleep 
is any more than we know what life is. There 
is a limit to what material science can know. 

Heubel, who is one of the recent supporters 



THE GIFT OP SLEEP 149 

of the psychological theory of sleep, says that 
" Mental activity depends on the incoming 
peripheral sensory stimulations; when snch 
peripheral sensory stimulations are absent, 
mental activity is in abeyance and sleep re- 
sults." This is, in effect, to say that, when 
things about us no longer give us any sensa- 
tion, when they do not attract or hold our at- 
tention, we fall asleep. But we all know of 
exceptions to this rule. We have seen others 
fall into " a brown study," and have probably 
done so ourselves, and become perfectly lost to 
all about them; absorbed in their own reflec- 
tions, they neither hear nor see the things hap- 
pening around them. For the time being 
" peripheral sensory stimulations " are absent, 
and yet mental activity continues and sleep does 
not result. 

The biological theory of sleep considers all 
the other theories, while formulating its own, 
because biology considers the whole organism 
and not only one organ or function of the body. 
From a different point of view B inns' theory 
is confirmed by Claperede, who points out that, 
" biologically regarded, sleep has its signifi- 
cance not as a passive state, but as an active 
instinct, like all the other instincts of animal 
life." 

There is a degree of satisfaction to be found 
in this theory. It might be stated in this way, 
that, when man has had during any period all 



150 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

the sensations and experiences he can digest, 
the instinct to sleep takes possession of him. 
It is not that he becomes helpless in the hands 
of those experiences, but that his whole nature, 
like his stomach, knows when it has had food 
enough, and desires time for digestion and as- 
similation before it takes in more. Obviously, 
i i utter separation from the phenomenal world, ' J 
as John Bigelow expresses it, becomes neces- 
sary. 

In his lectures on Botany at the Eoyal School 
of Medicine in Great Britain, Professor Leo H. 
Grindon said : ' ' Man is captured in sleep not by 
death but by his better nature; to-day runs in 
through a deeper day to become the parent of 
to-morrow, and to issue every morning, bright 
as the morning of life, and of life-size, from the 
peaceful womb of the cerebellum. ' ' 

This is the result not of a passive state, but 
of an active instinct; it accepts sleep as a time 
of growth, not merely a time of rest. Bigelow 
says, "Something goes on during sleep which 
is a preventive as well as an antidote to 
mania,' ' and, in furtherance of this same idea, 
Dr. J. J. G. Wilkinson of the Eoyal College of 
Surgeons of London, argues that it seems " as 
if a reason more perfect than reason, and unin- 
fluenced by its partialities, had been at work 
when we were in our beds." 

Even " biologically regarded," Bigelow is 
not far astray when he claims that " our de- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 151 

sire for sleep is manifestly designed to promote 
in us the growth and development of spiritual 
graces.' ' In other words, we desire to sleep, 
that we may relate the experiences of our 
every-day active life to the sum of knowledge 
we already possess by inheritance and past ex- 
perience, that we may thereby get a fuller un- 
derstanding of life and its purposes. 

" It is not uncommon for those who have no 
habit or inclination to sleep during the morning 
hours of secular days, to be overcome with 
somnolency in church soon after the devotional 
exercises are begun, and to find it impossible 
to derive any edification from them until they 
have lost themselves for a moment or two in 
absolute unconsciousness. Then they have no 
difficulty, sometimes a lively pleasure, in at- 
tending to the exercises which follow. The 
worshiper is then withdrawn from the familiar 
excitement of customary avocations. It is idle 
to suppose that in these few moments of repose, 
upright in his pew, he has rested enough, in the 
common acceptation of that word, to repair any 
waste of tissue that would explain the new sense 
of refreshment that ensues. He has received, 
in that brief retirement from the world, some 
reinforcements which manifestly are not de- 
pendent upon time or space for their efficacy — 
spiritual reinforcements, and spiritual rein- 
forcements only. He has removed himself, or 
been removed, further away, out of sight or 



152 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

hearing or thinking, so to speak, of his phe- 
nomenal life, and nearer to the Source of all 
life." This explanation may or may not be 
true. He adds: 

" It was quite a common impression among 
the ancients that sleepers in temples of religion 
were more apt to receive divine communications 
there than elsewhere.' ' (" Mystery of Sleep," 
John Bigelow, pp. 94-95.) 



CHAPTEE XXX 

WE LEABN TO DO BY DOING 

Sleep winds us up for the succeeding dawn. 

Young. 

/^ OOD health and good sleep are so interde- 

^-* pendent that it is as difficult to separate 
them into cause and effect as to determine 
" which came first, the hen or the eggl " 

If it be true that life may be wonderfully pro- 
longed as soon as we have learned to avoid dis- 
ease and exhaustion, and that we may learn to 
avoid both by avoiding excess, then it is as much 
within our power to live long and well as to 
sleep long and well, if we so wish. Senility, the 
disease of old age, is now believed to be caused 
by germs which flourish in the waste matter 
left in the system through improper or ex- 
cessive eating. 

Metchnikoff, the noted bacteriologist, alleges 
that the large intestine is the breeding-place 
of these destructive germs. A Dr. Hall ar- 
rived at the same conclusion earlier and com- 
bated his germs with copious water-flooding 
of the bowels. So far, Metchnikoff 's experi- 
ments point to the conclusion that lactic acid 

153 



154 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

destroys them. That is why he recommends the 
use of pure buttermilk and has invented a tab- 
let that, dropped into milk, will convert it into 
a wholesome drink for adult man. Discoveries 
and inventions of this sort are of great interest 
to all who enjoy and seek to prolong life. But 
purely physical things cannot take the place 
of the mental attitude. The youngest woman 
of seventy-nine that I have ever known is one 
who says, ' ' Tell me more ; I must not get into 
such a rut that I cannot grow. ' ' No discovery or 
invention will do us much good if we allow 
habit to cramp our thought and custom to 
stale it. 

Science may show us how to avoid disease 
and to prolong life, but, if we turn a deaf ear 
to her teaching, we shall get no benefit from it. 
It is the alert, open mind that profits from dis- 
covery or experience. The sun may shine with 
life-giving power, but, if the house be shuttered 
and darkened, it will not benefit the dwellers. 
So with the mind. If we resolutely shut it 
against new ideas, if we refuse to take even 
the gift of life and health from an unaccustomed 
hand, then we must expect to suffer. 

If we would rid ourselves of sleeplessness, of 
disease, and dissatisfaction, we must be willing 
to let go of every habit, every thought, every 
feeling that may injure us. To hug them to us 
is merely to invite further suffering, to lessen 
our own vigor and our own enjoyment. 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 155 

Nevertheless, we must hug our habits to us, 
if we can see or understand nothing better. No 
one can help us beyond what we are willing to 
receive: anyone can lead a horse to the water, 
but no one can make him drink. If the end in 
view seems to us worth the price we must pay, 
we pay it. We have no choice ; for our desires 
push us that way. We often take credit to our- 
selves for things for which no credit is due us. 
However self-denying an act may seem, it is, 
after all, the thing we want most to do, else we 
would not do it. 

In the same way, if we refuse to profit by the 
discoveries and experiments of others, if we 
prefer to go on in our old way of suffering, no- 
body can really prevent us. It is all a matter 
that we must decide. This book does not pre- 
tend to cure any ill. It intends merely to show 
what investigation and experience have proved ; 
to point to possible ways of escape from the 
ills with which men now suffer. If it looks de- 
sirable to you, you will only read it; but, until 
you have tried it, you cannot say whether it is 
good or not. 



CHAPTER XXXI 



VAIN REGRETS 



Thou hast been called, O Sleep! the friend of woe; 
But 'tis the happy that have called thee so. 

SOUTHEY. 

SOMETIMES we lie awake at night to regret 
some action of our own because the result 
has not been what we desired or expected. 
" John the Unafraid " says that " if your mis- 
fortune is not your own fault, you have much to 
be glad of. If it is your own fault you have 
more to be glad of, since you can prevent that 
misfortune from occurring again.' ' 

In either case, therefore, you may follow the 
advice given so many years ago, ' ' Rejoice ever- 
more.' 9 At least it is evident that in neither 
case need you lose sleep over it : for, according 
to your light, you did what seemed to you at the 
time best for you to do. 

For, to quote Epictetus again, it is not pos- 
sible ' i to judge one thing to be best for me and 
seek another." The thing you did, you did be- 
cause it seemed best to do that, and to regret 
now and wish you had done something else is, in 
reality, to wish that you had been a different 

156 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 157 

person from what you were, which is a foolish 
regret, or, that you had done something differ- 
ent from what seemed best to do. That would 
be a mild form of insanity. You don't really 
regret that you were not insane! 

It has no bearing on the ease that the out- 
come has proved that you were mistaken. You 
might never have learned that your course was 
not best for you or for others, except by doing 
just as you did. Now you have that much more 
knowledge than you had before, and you can 
use it to help you another time. A man can't 
do any better than he can. You cannot do more 
than you know, and you only know what you 
have learned by experience. The great ma- 
jority of us learn only in the school of personal 
experience ; the few wise ones learn some things 
through the experience of others, by relating 
or applying their own experience to the events 
in the lives of others. Comparing and reflect- 
ing, they come to see the close relation of act 
and consequence, and thus recognize the uni- 
versal laws in operation. 

Such wisdom may be yours, but it will not 
come through regretting that you did not pos- 
sess it ready-made. Besides, no misfortune, 
whether we are ourselves directly responsible 
for it or not, is ever in vain. No matter how 
hard and almost unendurable the " misfor- 
tune " may have seemed at the time, we shall 
find in looking back that it was no unmixed evil. 



158 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

The terrible calamity has often been the turn- 
ing-point in our lives. It made us pause and 
think, and, through the thinking, we have 
achieved development of which we were other- 
wise incapable. 

Even when we do not always see this for our- 
selves, partly because we are not always good 
judges of our own development or progress, we 
see it plainly in the lives of others. A friend of 
mine once said to me of a woman who was do- 
ing a tremendous work in the world, ' ' I remem- 
ber when she was just a selfish society woman. y ' 

" What changed her! " I asked. 

" Oh, she lost her only daughter very sud- 
denly. It was a terrible blow, and her friends 
thought she would never recover. But she did, 
and those who love her best know that that 
heavy sorrow was really a blessing in disguise. 
Think what she is now ! ' ' 

I smiled appreciatively, for my friend was 
herself still smarting from a keen disappoint- 
ment which she had not yet recognized as a 
blessing in disguise. But recognizing it in an- 
other's life must eventually help her to see it 
in her own. 

If our misfortune has come from a selfishness 
that we might have overcome, and did not, we 
shall not better matters by wasting time in re- 
gret. " Repentance " — which is the only emo- 
tion such a misfortune should arouse — " is to 
up and act for righteousness, and forget that 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 159 

you ever had relations with sin." Unless we 
" bring forth fruits meet for repentance, ' ' our 
repentance is lost, and we are indeed worse off 
than if we had felt none. 

Spinoza, the Jewish philosopher, has spoken 
almost the last word on the uselessness of re- 
gret. He says: " One might perhaps expect 
gnawings of conscience and repentance to help 
to bring him on the right path, and might there- 
upon conclude (as everyone does conclude) 
that these affections are good things. Yet when 
we look at the matter closely, we shall find that 
not only are they not good, but on the contrary 
hurtful and evil passions. For it is manifest 
that we can always get along better by reason 
and love of truth than by worry of conscience 
and remorse.' ' 

It is an old Hebrew idea that we should re- 
pent in sackcloth and ashes, making ourselves 
miserable that we may make God happy. We 
forget that love cannot enjoy anyone's misery. 
It were indeed a perverted mind, whether hu- 
man or divine, that could derive pleasure from 
the discomfort or sorrow of another. 

Plants grow better when the sunshine warms 
them, and human beings expand and develop 
under the sunshine of joyous reflection and ef- 
fort. If you are losing sleep through dreary 
or hopeless regret, purge your mind of such 
folly, and, after a sound sleep, you will find 
that things look brighter. 



160 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

There are, of course, exceptions to the rule 
that sleep brings mental quiet, for some sorts 
of nervous sufferers are prone to depression in 
the morning, but it is not common among active, 
healthy persons. They, like well-nourished 
children, awake to find each day a fresh delight. 

Dr. M. Allen Starr, the distinguished nerve 
specialist of New York, writes me that there 
are several explanations of the cause of such 
depression. He is of the opinion that those who 
are depressed from melancholia when they wake 
in the morning, are probably suffering from a 
toxic condition of the blood which originally 
produced the melancholia. This toxin, or 
poison, is resisted by the nervous system when 
it is well nourished, but has a greater effect 
when the nervous system is poorly nourished. 
He says that there is a general consensus of 
opinion that, during sleep, the blood vessels of 
the brain are contracted slightly so that the 
amount of blood going into the brain during 
sleep is less than during the waking hours. 
This was proved many years ago by Professor 
Mosso of Turin, by a series of experiments 
which are conclusive. When blood vessels are 
contracted, and less blood is going to an organ, 
the nutrition of that organ is less actively main- 
tained. Hence, if a person has poison in the 
system, it is less restricted during sleep, has 
a greater opportunity to attack the nerve-cells, 
and thus to prevent the nutrition which is es- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 161 

sential to the feeling of general comfort. That 
is the theory on which we physicians explain 
depression on awaking after sleep in melan- 
cholia. What is true of melancholia is prob- 
able true also of fatigue conditions and irregular 
conditions of health, many of which are de- 
pendent upon the existence in the blood of sub- 
stances detrimental to health, either the prod- 
ucts of indigestion or the poisons of disease. 
This theory explains the conditions in which 
a person not actively ill may awake from a sleep 
in a state of depression. (See Appendix A.) 

Prof. Edward M. Weyer in reading the 
sheets of this book suggests another tentative 
explanation of depression upon waking: if we 
consider the nerve cell as stored with energy, 
then, if the store is maintained at normal, it is 
in a healthful state. The supply fluctuates 
somewhat during the day, but in the melan- 
cholic person it does not rise to normal even 
after good sleep: the less amount of carbonic 
acid gas eliminated during sleep leaves the 
system on waking at the mercy of that poisoned 
gas and of the chronically low nervous energy. 



CHAPTER XXXII 

THE LOVE THAT IS PEACE 

Sweet gate of life, sweet type of death — 
Come, Sleep ! 

Dora Read Goodale. 

A/TANY persons lose sleep because of their 
^ ■"■ love for others, as the lover who sighs and 
tosses, dreaming, asleep or awake, of the be- 
loved. The mother loses sleep thinking of the 
child with its little worries and problems, its 
willfulness or its frail health. There is always 
some cause that seems to her reasonable ground 
for worry. The father, too, plans for the fu- 
ture of his son, and lies awake to map out a 
life for another human being, as if that being 
were a puppet and his father held the strings 
by which it could be moved in his hands. 

Dickens showed the futility of such planning 
in " Dombey and Son," and we have all seen 
it in actual life. Yet we go on doing as our fa- 
thers did, and suffering, as we say, " because 
of our love." It is really only because we do 
not understand what love is. 

What we usually call love is largely self-love ; 
that is why we hear so much of the pangs of 

162 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 163 

love. Love, being the essence of godlikeness, 
ought to bring us the joy of the gods, and love 
would bring only joy if we could forget our- 
selves. We understand ourselves so little that 
we do not know when our love is self-love. We 
are always seeking some return upon our affec- 
tion, as if it were an investment that must pay 
dividends to prove its profitableness. The price 
of our love is generally the right to criticise, 
to influence, to control; or, if we forego these 
seeming advantages, we expect at least consid- 
eration from those whom we have blessed with 
our love. No relation of life seems too sacred 
to escape the contamination of the selfish de- 
mands of self or narrow love. 

The mother loves her child, cares for it in 
its helpless years, gladly risks even her life for 
it, and yet may be unwilling that that child shall 
live its own life, follow its own yearnings, think 
its own thoughts. The great stumbling-block 
of the parent is the unconscious demand for 
gratitude, the claim made upon the child of a 
return for the effort and affection so freely be- 
stowed. It may be that the parent does not look 
for material returns, such as money or posi- 
tion, nevertheless a price is exacted every time 
that the parent is surprised, disappointed, or 
angered by the child pursuing some course con- 
trary to his teaching. The love that cared for 
the helpless child becomes the tyranny that 
would control its thoughts and action. 



164 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

We say " This is natural,' ' but we seldom 
say, even to ourselves, " This is selfishness.' ' 
We would not desire to compel another to think 
as we think, if we were not sure that we could 
not be mistaken. It is a conceit of ourselves 
which makes us quick to thrust upon another 
" ready-made " opinions because they are our 
opinions. 

But there is a still more subtle selfishness 
than this that may be at the bottom of things. 
If we have earnestly advocated anything which 
the world has been slow to accept, we feel that 
it is a sort of attack upon us and our views 
when our children do not support those views. 
We say, " How can we expect others to heed 
us, if our own children don't heed us," and so 
we are hurt or angered. We think of their 
opposition as disloyalty, and it does not occur 
to us that it might be no advantage if others 
did heed us; that the very opposition of our 
children may be the best means of preventing 
us from doing harm to our fellows. 

Besides, if we cared more that men should 
see the right and love it, than that they should 
heed us, it would not hurt or vex us whether 
they listened or not. If we have a message, 
it will find hearers and followers. * ' There can 
never be one lost good," says Browning, and, if 
what we would teach is good, it will find its own. 
It is self-love, not love for others, which makes 
us sore or angry when they will not listen. 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 165 

It is a narrow love that makes us fail our 
friends because they have not fulfilled the ideal 
we had of them. We never really loved them. 
We loved something that we thought they 
should be, and were unwilling to find them 
something different. We get pain out of our 
relations with our fellow-beings because our 
love is not big enough to exclude self. 

We make in our minds a model of what our 
friends should be, and it takes up so much room 
that we cannot accommodate so much as a men- 
tal photograph of what they really are. And 
just there lies not only the possibility but the 
absolute assurance of " disappointment " in 
them, and consequent " pain " for ourselves. 

If we knew our friends for what they really 
are, and were willing that they should be them- 
selves, we could not possibly be disappointed 
in them. We really insist upon our friends be- 
ing in " our own image and likeness.' ' Just 
so the Hebrews, in the efforts to present God to 
the world, made of him simply a man like them- 
selves — big and strong, to be sure, with senti- 
ments of love and pity and justice, but with a 
lust of anger and revenge which almost blotted 
out his tenderness. Many people still cling to 
this idea of God, but they are mostly those 
whose love is so full of self that even the Su- 
preme Being must conform to their standard 
or they cease to believe in him. 

The " disappointment " that so often follows 



166 . THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

marriage, even between the fondest lovers, is 
mainly caused by this narrow or self-love. 
Most married misery is due to each trying to 
improve the other instead of himself. " Be- 
cause I love him," says the wife, " he should 
do as I ask him, but he refuses. He does not 
love me as I love him. I am almost broken- 
hearted with disappointment." 

" Any wife who loved her husband would 
find it a pleasure to be and to do what he asks. 
My wife does not conform to my wishes, but 
insists upon doing as she herself prefers. If 
a man is not the head of his own house, how is 
happiness possible? Marriage is indeed a lot- 
tery, and I have drawn a blank," says he. 

But there is one thing certain, if we find our- 
selves suffering through our love in any rela- 
tion of life, whether as husband or wife, mother, 
daughter, lover, friend, we may be sure that 
it is because our love is not broad enough; be- 
cause we believe in ownership, or desire grati- 
tude, or are confident of our wisdom and ability 
to control the life of another. In short, that 
we love self best. ' ' Love suff ereth long and is 
kind; . . . seeketh not her own, is not easily 
provoked, thinketh no evil." The largest love 
embraces, understands, and forgives everything, 
and knows no disappointments and no end. 



CHAPTER XXXIII 



THE SPECTER OF DEATH 



i^VFTEN we are anxious and sleepless only 
^^ because we are afraid of what is not in 
itself frightful. Like the little child in the pic- 
ture who mounts the dark stairs in deadly ter- 
ror of an imaginary bear, we are afraid lest we 
should see a vague something that might terrify 
us still more. 

But perhaps there is a real specter in our 
path? Let us attack the most terrible foe; hav- 
ing overcome him, we shall find that the lesser 
ones have no power over us. 

A man was once walking alone a lonely road 
on a dark, misty night, fearing every sound 
and looking for danger. He had been told that 
the road was haunted and this was the terror 
that possessed him. As he neared the haunted 
spot, he saw a white form rise from the earth. 
It was barely discernible through the mist as 
it waved thin arms and made soft moaning 
sighs. His hair rose on his head, but his going 
forward was imperative, so he took heart of 
grace, and determined to face his adversary. 

" Spirit or human," said he, "I shall settle 
you before I leave this place to-night." With 

167 



168 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

this he dashed forward, and found that it was 
merely a slender birch with white under-leaves 
upturned in the wind, as the breeze sighed 
through its branches. 

The rest of the road held no terrors for him. 
The specter he had most dreaded proved to be 
nothing at all. In conquering his first emotion 
of fear he had vanquished all terror. 

Maybe we fear the possible death either of 
ourselves or of some other dearer than our- 
selves. Are we afraid of that? Let us look 
calmly at it. Changes have taken place, and 
are even now in progress in our bodies, yet we 
do not fear them. For the most part we are 
even unconscious of them : a change is not ter- 
rible in itself, no matter how great it is. Death 
is but another change, one that has not yet 
come. 

A pious man once appealed in distress to the 
late Eev. Dr. John Hall: he said he knew his 
soul was saved, but he was afraid of dying. Dr. 
Hall asked him, " But you are not dying now, 
are you"? " 

' ' No, ' ' he said, ' ' but I know that I must die 
some day." 

1 ' Ah, well ! ' ' replied the doctor, ' ' we hardly 
need dying grace until our dying day." 

1 1 As our day so shall our strength be ' ' — the 
bravest soldier may be nervous contemplating 
the battle, but in the action he finds not only 
courage but exhilaration. So, if we learn to 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 169 

live from day to day, we may well put off: fear 
of death or dying until our dying day has come, 
and then we may find that there is nothing to 
fear. For the present, what we have to con- 
sider is life, and what it may mean. 

There are two ways of looking at life : one 
regards life as the changes that take place in 
the body from birth to death. The body is al- 
ways changing, being almost all renewed at 
least every seven years. Old hair is constantly 
falling out, to be replaced by new; we cut the 
excess growth of the nails, and rarely stop to 
think that the nails we have to-day are not the 
same nails we had a few weeks or months ago. 
We get rid of dead skin, and our skin con- 
stantly renews itself, and so we feel no worry 
if we cut or scratch it. We say quite compla- 
cently, " Oh! it will heal up and new skin 
grow." The whole body fades and is renewed. 
It is not, then, the changes in the body that we 
fear. 

We accept this series of physical changes as 
physical life, for we know that, if the changes 
stopped, life would stop also ; but we must also 
recognize them as death, for the beginning of 
each new stage is the death of the previous 
stage. Thus death is steadily going on in our- 
selves, at the same time that life continues, and 
we not only have no fear of it, but are uncon- 
scious of the process: our body is constantly 
passing from death to life, as well as from life 



170 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

to death, and we are not afraid of that; in fact, 
we never give a thought to it. 

Even from the physical standpoint man need 
not spend his best years fearing death. When 
we live so that death shall round out a long 
life, we shall have lost all fear of it. When 
we say that a person did not die a " natural 
death," we usually mean that he died suddenly 
and violently. But death from disease is not 
" natural ■■' either, and in as far as we learn 
how to live aright, harmonizing the physical, 
mental, and spiritual natures, realizing that the 
perishing body is not all of us, we can avoid 
most of the fruitful sources of disease. As we 
learn what true life is, and how natural the 
eventual dissolution of the body is, we shall 
cease to tremble at it. 

MetchnikofY, the eminent philosopher and 
student who has devoted years of study and 
research to the life and death of man, says: 
" When diseases are suppressed, and the course 
of life regulated by scientific hygiene, it is prob- 
able that death will come only at extreme old 
age. When death comes in its natural place at 
the end of the normal cycle of the physical life, 
it will be robbed of its terrors, and be accepted 
gratefully as any other part of the cycle of 
life." 

He thinks, in fact, that the instinct of life 
may be replaced by an instinct of death. " It 
is even possible," he says, " that the approach 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 171 

of natural death is one of the most pleasant 
sensations in the world.' ' Perhaps the most 
striking evidence of the truth of this so far 
recorded is the case of Brillat-Savarin's aunt 
— who, at ninety-three, said to her famous 
nephew, " If you ever reach my age you will 
find that one wants to die just as one wants to 
sleep." 

All of us know of cases where the very aged, 
having lived their lives to the best of their 
perceptions, awaited death willingly and almost 
joyfully. As Browning says, " Thou waitedst 
age; wait death, nor be afraid." 

Fear of the approach of death disturbs us 
because we feel further possibilities of life. We 
do not want to be cut off in the flower of our 
existence ; we think of death, not as a change of 
existence, but as the end of it, and we think 
there is no sure way of avoiding that. All of 
us have felt the truth of Dickens' idea of the 
bells which toll almost gladly for the aged, but 
seem to weep when the young die. We are sure 
we should not fear death, nor be unwilling to 
die if we had the privilege of living to a " ripe 
old age." For time is not measured by the 
clock or by the calendar; those measure only 
the revolutions of the earth and of the sun. 
Time is measured by thought and act, and, more 
than all, by feeling. And we can ordinarily 
prolong our own lives to the time when we shall 
willingly and gladly lay them down. 



172 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

This willingness is by no means the same 
feeling that prompts the useless and unmeaning 
exclamation, " Oh, I wish I were dead! " The 
average person gets into such an unreasoning 
state over every little happening that he can- 
not see any connection between the events in 
his daily life. He becomes discouraged, and 
thinks for the moment that he would like to 
quit it all. No matter how many years such an 
one has lived, he has not attained a " ripe old 
age." Eipeness has no part in petty impa- 
tience; it implies mellowness, soundness, and 
general wholesomeness of character. 

As man is learning more and more about his 
life, he is rinding that sickness, premature old 
age, and untimely death are, in a large meas- 
ure, due to his own misunderstanding of the 
purposes of life. It is this misunderstanding 
that gives the mysterious air to life. We fear 
the mysterious, for our ingrained habit of re- 
garding things that we do not yet understand as 
insoluble mysteries is a relic of the days when 
savage man found mystery and danger in 
everything. 

So, if we are making ourselves unhappy, los- 
ing sleep, and suffering physical and mental 
distress because of the possible approach of 
death, we may dismiss that cause of worry. As 
soon as we begin to consider the purposes of 
life and our relation to them, we shall natu- 
rally avoid excesses in eating; live as hy- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 173 

gienically as possible ; harbor cleanly, uplifting 
thoughts, helpful to others and to ourselves, and 
so reach out spiritually for a fuller understand- 
ing of the purposes of all life. And what we 
cease to fear for ourselves, we soon cease to- 
fear for our other selves. 

Living thus, we shall not fear death, but shall 
move toward it without thinking of it, know- 
ing that it is natural, merely the long sleep of 
the objective consciousness. 



Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet! 

Nothing comes to thee new or strange. 
Sleep full of rest from head to feet; 

Lie still, dry dust, secure of change. 

Tennyson. 

O'er each vain eye oblivious pinions wave, 
And quench 'd existence crouches in a grave. 
What better name may Slumber's bed become? 
Night's Sepulcher, the universal Home, 
Where Weakness, Strength, Vice, Virtue, sunk supine, 
Alike in naked helplessness recline ; 
Glad for a while to heave unconscious breath, 
Yet wake to wrestle with the dread of death, 
And shun, though day but dawns on ills increased, 
That Sleep, the loveliest, since it dreams the least. 

Byron. 



CHAPTER XXXIV 



A NATUKAL CHANGE 



nPHROUGH generations, perhaps for hun- 
-■■ dreds of thousands of years, custom has 
ordained grief for the dead, we have come to 
feel that it is a proof of affection or of sensi- 
tiveness or a sort of virtue: we indulge in the 
luxury of woe, we nurse our grief until, like a 
spoiled lap-dog, it becomes a burden. But we 
know that the unselfish dead would only be dis- 
tressed at our grieving. 

When we look upon the change called death 
as no more mysterious than any of the other 
changes in our bodily or mental development, 
which we either welcome or are unconscious of, 
we shall lose our terror of it either for ourselves 
or for others. 

Our terror for others is not really for those 
others so much as for ourselves. The sense 
of " our great loss " is really a piece of selfish- 
ness. For life cannot mean one thing for us 
and another for our brother; as we see our 
own lives, so must we see the lives of those we 
love. The purposes of life are the same for 
all men, for all men are in the plan of the 
Spirit. 

If for any reason our brother has passed 

175 



176 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

from our earthly cognizance, we cannot say- 
that we have really lost him. It is true that we 
do not see him with our eyes or touch him with 
our hands, but we have a remembrance of him 
in the form of a mental picture down to the 
minutest details of how he looked and moved, 
and we also have a remembrance of his spirit- 
ual character. 

For the character — that sum of the abilities 
of those we love — remains with us after the 
physical form has passed away. We are af- 
fected by it just as we were when the loved one 
lived. We can feel the appeal that that char- 
acter makes to us, its effect upon our thoughts 
and actions, as strongly as if the absent one 
stood beside us and claimed our attention. 
How, then, can we say he is lost? 

The dead whom we have loved hold us as 
securely as they did when they were living; it 
is only that we do not see how. It has come 
within the experience of many that the death 
of father, mother, or some dearly loved one has 
led to the awakening of some wayward or mis- 
guided one who seemed to be wasting all the 
opportunities of life. We know that it was not 
the mere death which worked this seeming 
miracle. That simply woke the dormant love in 
the one who had hitherto desired only his own 
way. As soon as he became conscious of his 
love for the beloved one who has passed out of 
his earthly life, he longed to be what his be- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 177 

loved would have had him be, and so he turned 
his attention to using the opportunities of life, 
to the end that he might grow and develop. 
Thus in death the loved one held the way- 
ward friend even more securely than he ever 
had in life. 

We shall not fear death, even for those we 
love, when we have realized that it is but a 
passing from life to life — just as the falling 
leaves do not mean the annihilation of the life 
of the tree, but merely the end of one phase 
of that life. Somewhere, some time, that which 
was really our loved one will blossom again in 
the world's experience, and even now is con- 
tinuing to live through its influence upon our 
lives. " There is no death; what seems so is 
transition. ' ' 

The bodily companionship with all that it 
implies, that we have lost: yet, if our beloved 
had gone to be Viceroy of India, we should miss 
him, but we should not put on mourning for 
that, nor " grieve " that we had lost his com- 
panionship. 

4 ' But we could write and hear from him and 
so keep in touch with him." True: it is then 
for your own loss that you mourn. 

Nearly all the suffering that death causes us 
is for ourselves. It is our feeling of helpless- 
ness, the emptiness of the earth that is left, 
the changed world that we look at in the sleep- 
less hours of the night, or, when we awake in 



178 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

the morning, our pity for our own loss and the 
seeming uselessness of what remains of our ex- 
istence. This consciousness of our loss numbs 
us so that we cannot get a realizing sense of 
the joys of the spirit set free from the limita- 
tions of the body. Our love is still so earthy 
that it demands fleshly as well as spiritual 
communion. 

So real is our suffering when those we love 
best are torn from us that for a time we are 
inconsolable. Philosophy, religion, the affec- 
tionate ministrations of those about us, avail 
not to bind up the broken heart. There is but 
one cure for such grief — to minister to others. 
Unselfish devotion to a great cause — the cause 
of our fellows, whether in the mass or individ- 
ually — is a sovereign balm for a bleeding heart. 

When we understand life we know this, for 
we have learned that neither in joy nor in sor- 
row can any man live to himself. Action of any 
sort relieves tension and suff ering. If we bottle 
up all our sympathy for ourselves, it becomes 
so tainted with selfishness and narrowness that 
it loses its healing qualities. But if we let that 
sympathy go out freely to others, forgetting 
our " personal " needs, it blesses them and 
blesses us. 

A friend of mine lost a son and daughter by 
drowning, just as they had entered young man- 
hood and womanhood, and for a time his grief 
threatened to crush him. He found no relief 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 179 

until he had his attention called to the sorrow 
of another who, through a train wreck, had 
lost his only child. Although a stranger to this 
stricken father, he sought him out and, because 
of his own double loss, was able to comfort him 
as no one else could. Moreover, the restless- 
ness went out of his own heart; he realized his 
kinship with all sufferers as never before. 

There is a story in " The Light of Asia " 
that Buddha, to comfort a mother broken- 
hearted over the death of her only child, sent 
her to get black mustard seed from a house 
where death had never been. The mother car- 
ried her dead babe about the village, and in each 
house she was offered mustard seed, but each 
giver said, " Death has been here." At last 
she realized that she was not the only sufferer, 
that death was a necessary accompaniment of 
life as shadow is a necessary accompaniment 
of light. Her grief, she saw, was but a part of 
the common sorrow. The recognition that 
either joy or sorrow is common to all increases 
the healing sense of unity, it is a " touch of 
nature ' ' that ' ' makes the whole world kin. ' ' 

There is no wrong in our grieving, if it com- 
forts us : but to look thus each for himself dis- 
passionately at the cause and the nature of his 
grief, will surely give so clear a view of it that 
it will no longer deprive us of sleep. 

Then why lose sleep worrying about what we 
know to be merely a change! 



CHAPTER XXXV 

THE DISTRUST OF LIFE 

Come Sleep, Sleep! the certain knot of peace, 
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe : 
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, 
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low. 

Sir Philip Sidney. 

TF there is no cause to fear death, even when 
■*■ one views life as purely physical, there is 
still less cause to fear it when one holds the 
second possible view of what life is — the view 
that life is the Unseen Consciousness and is 
within one's self. These are two opposing 
views; it is only when we try to combine them 
that we find ourselves filled with fears. When 
we reason about our bodily life, thinking of 
ourselves as animals, and apply the conclusions 
to our lives as men, we find confusion, uncer- 
tainty, and fear: for our minds reach, conclu- 
sions that our hearts tell us cannot be true. 

What man fears is not death — as an animal 
he does not know or see death. As long as a 
man is mainly animal he suffers only as an ani- 
mal. The deer that flees before the dogs is 
not afraid of death, for it is not possible that 

180 



THE GIFT OP SLEEP 181 

it could conceive of death: that is possible only 
to the reflecting and comparing mind. He fears 
the suffering that must follow from an attack 
from creatures of superior strength and fierce 
appetites. So man fears that his animal ex- 
istence, which he does know, — with all its 
changes, — may be painfully cut off. As a ra- 
tional being, man knows that death is only a 
natural and never-ending change. He knows 
that life is only that which he recognizes as 
humanness in himself when he meditates upon 
it. He says to himself, " I feel my life, not 
as I have been or as I shall be, but I feel it 
thus : that I am, that I never began anywhere, 
that I shall never end anywhere.'' According 
to this view, death does not exist. 

His animal view of life, as the changes in his 
body, differs so much from the spiritual view 
of life as Unseen Consciousness, that he can- 
not reconcile them. They lead to " warring in 
his members," a conflict between the limita- 
tions of the mind and the intuitions of the soul. 
This causes fear. 

There is, of course, a merely physical shrink- 
ing from death, the result of race inheritance. 
In the early days of our race, before man had 
learned to control the forces of material life, 
those men or races of men that did not love 
life, feared death and avoided it, made less ef- 
fort, and took less care of their lives, and, ac- 
cordingly, soon ceased to exist. Only the hardy 



182 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

survived. The fear of death helped to preserve 
the race. 

But this inherited shrinking from death is 
not what tortures man. What causes the un- 
easiness is rather that superstitious fear of 
death, which is really fear of a life after the 
throes of death. We have made this present 
life so unreasonable and so inconsistent with 
our own nature that we feel as if any life after 
death must be just as incomprehensible and in- 
consistent as this one, so we fear it. We fail 
to see that all life goes on developing and im- 
proving, and so we think our future life may 
be much worse than what we have now; then, 
like Hamlet, we ask is it really l ' better to en - 
dure the ills we have than fly to others that we 
know not of? " 

Because we hold these two views of life, the 
animal's view and the spirit's view, we seem 
to hear two voices crying in our hearts when 
we consider things : the voice of the Body and 
the voice of the Soul. The Body says, ' i I shall 
cease to be, I shall die, all that I set my life 
in shall die." The Soul cries, " I am, I can- 
not die, I ought not to die," and, as if from 
still deeper depths, comes an appalling whis- 
per, " Yet I am dying." (Tolstoy,) 

It is because of this contradiction that ter- 
ror seizes the mind when we think of the death 
of the flesh. Man has so long assumed that his 
fleshly life is the same as himself that he can- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 183 

not easily rid himself of the idea. Yet, if a 
man lose a hand or an arm or a leg by accident, 
he does not think that part of his consciousness 
or self is gone. He knows that a part of his 
body — through which himself is made manifest 
to other men — is gone, but he does not for a 
moment think that he, the human being, is any 
less. And he is not. 

It is true that the automatic processes of his 
mind refuse for some time to accept the loss 
of the members of his body, he misses that way 
of expressing his will. But that is not so 
strange as it may at first seem. All voluntary 
motion arises from desire, and is sent out from 
the directing mind by means of the nerves to 
the part of the body fitted to perform that 
motion. We are not conscious of sending 
an order to any nerve center when we wish to 
put one foot before the other in walking or to 
use our fingers in writing. 

Yet such an order is given, and the desire 
and the nerve center have both learned from re- 
peated experiences just how properly to direct 
that message to the foot or to the tips of 
the fingers. If, for any reason, we miscalcu- 
late, we find ourselves walking haltingly or 
stumblingly along; or our fingers do not move 
the pencil fairly so as to get the right results. 
So, too, when we have lost a foot or a hand, the 
nerve centers send out their messages with 
the same force as before, but the messages 



184 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

find no way of being delivered. But at no 
time does a man think that he is less 
himself because of the missing member. For 
myself and my body are not one and the 
same. Myself is that which lives in my 
body, and neither that body nor the years it ex- 
ists in any way determine the life of myself. 
This self of mine, which thinks and feels, is 
older than recorded time ; why, then, should we 
think that it will end with the century? It 
would not be possible, within the few years that 
the body exists, for the intelligence or conscious- 
ness of the individual to begin at nothingness 
and attain the degree of development of a 
human being. 

This self or consciousness is really the out- 
come of the impressions, experiences, and con- 
clusions of my ancestors for thousands upon 
thousands of years back, and this self began 
to be shaped even by that from which man 
sprang. It is continuous; just as it began be- 
fore my body was formed, so it must go on after 
the body ceases to exist; it cannot be a mere 
part of the body which will change with it or 
end with it. 

We do not know, as yet, how we shall con- 
tinue to live after the body is laid away : 
whether in the thoughts and feelings and deeds 
we have done in the flesh; or in our unending, 
though unconscious, influence; or in the lives 
of the children of our bodies or of our minds 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 185 

and hearts. But we do know that the world 
will never be the same as if we had never been 
here. We do know that what has existed 
through unnumbered ages will not end in this. 
Life does not cease with sleep nor end with 
death. ' ' I never was not, ' ' says the Bhagavad 
Gita, " nor shall I hereafter cease to be." 



CHAPTEE XXXVI 

BEST AND SLEEP 

Happy Sleep ! that bear'st upon thy breast 
The blood-red poppy of enchanting rest. 

Ada Louise Martin. 

/~\ NE of the main purposes of sleep is to se- 
^-^ cure rest to men. But intelligence will 
find rest in many other ways independent of 
sleep or of promoting sleep. We are just begin- 
ning, under the leadership of such people as 
Miss Eva Vescelius, to make a full use of music 
as a soother of the nerves : yet, as long ago as 
the time of David, some persons knew its value. 
Browning's magnificent poem, " Saul," re- 
counts its force. 

As David exorcised Saul's evil spirit by the 
skillful harp and voice, so those who are study- 
ing the therapeutics of music are now helping 
the physically and mentally ill. Miss Vescelius 
and those working with her claim that " music 
is capable of great life-awakening energy. . . . 
The use of music for healing the sick is there- 
fore a natural use of a natural power. Music, 
like medicine, has been divided into classes as 
stimulants, sedatives, and narcotics. It is now 

186 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 187 

admitted that music can be so employed as to 
exercise a distinct psychological influence upon 
the mind, the nerve centers and the circulatory 
system, and that by the intelligent use of music 
many ills may be cured." 

For almost all of us " music hath charms 
to soothe." Others again find in some form of 
massage a sweet though artificial sedative; 
some even in the combing of the hair, which is 
possibly connected with an electric effect, for 
we know little definitely as yet of the princi- 
ples of the possible curative force of elec- 
tricity. 

Others again rest by a mere mental change 
in their ordinary avocations. My wife was once 
talking with Mr. Stiegler, a well-known riding 
teacher in New York, and he said that he was in 
the saddle every day from six or seven in the 
morning till eleven at night, with only short 
intervals for meals. "It's a hard life," he 
said. 

" But Sundays! " the lady asked. 

' ' Oh, Sundays ! I have Sundays to myself. ' ' 

" And what do you do on Sundays? " 

"Oh!" he said, "I take a ride in the 
Park." 

The relief from the strain of watching the 
pupils and their horses was rest to him. 

When Weston had won his first six days' 
walk in Madison Square Garden, he went out 
to take a walk on Fifth Avenue on the Sunday. 



188 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

To find harmony with our own natures, to 
act in accordance with our natural or acquired 
tendencies, is rest. A peaceful surrounding is 
rest in itself, though sleep may not be wooed. 
One may be rested by a walk in a country lane, 
when a walk in the bustle of Broadway would 
only tire him the more. 

And this peaceful surrounding may be inte- 
rior just as well as exterior. Mrs. Elizabeth 
Burns Ferm, who has a playhouse for children 
on the East Side in New York, and does a great 
deal of other work, recently said : ' ' I could 
never accomplish what I do if I did not sleep 
so well. That rests me completely. I do not 
dream nor stir. I drop into the homogeneous, 
forgetting myself and becoming just a part of 
life. In this way I rest." 

The oldest books show that, ever since there 
have been any records of man, he has been 
seeking happiness and rest, yet he has not at- 
tained either happiness or rest. But the seek- 
ing has helped in his growth upward and prog- 
ress has been his reward. As Browning 
says: 

" Progress is man's distinguishing mark alone; 
Not God 's ; not the beasts ' : He is ; they are ; 
Man partly is and wholly hopes to be. ' ' 

Even though man seeks in wrong directions, 
he is sure to move onward so long as he con- 
tinues to seek, for, if we sufficiently desire any 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 189 

goal, we shall eventually find it. " What d'ye 
lack? quoth God," says Emerson, " take it 
and pay the price." Jesus put the same thing 
in another form. Said he, " Ask and it shall 
be given you ; seek and ye shall find ;. knock and 
it shall be opened unto you." 

Those who misunderstand life and its pur- 
poses apply this only to what are called reli- 
gious matters, but those who see farther into 
life know that it applies in every way. It all 
depends upon what we feel that we lack. If we 
feel we lack pleasure, or happiness, or rest, we 
seek them along the lines we think they may be 
found. And we pay the price that is asked. We 
cannot avoid this so long as cause and effect 
follow each other. 

If we seek happiness through selfish gratifi- 
cations, we pay the price of disappointment and 
pain, if we are at all enlightened. Of course, if 
a man lives the life of the animal merely, cut- 
ting himself off from any recognition of the 
claims of his fellows, he may get all the happi- 
ness he can understand through self-seeking. 
But the price he pays is that he is not able to 
understand or to appreciate more than this 
lesser happiness. As Walter Scott says : 

" For him no minstrel raptures swell. 
Proud though his title, high his fame, 
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; 
Despite those titles, power and pelf, 
The wretch, concentered all in self, 



190 THE GIFT OP SLEEP 

Living shall forfeit fair renown, 
And, doubly dying, shall go down 
To the vile dust from whence he sprung, 
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung/ ' 

This is the price he pays. 

If we seek happiness through the happiness 
of all; if we forget self, understanding that all 
are One, seeking that wisdom which comes only 
from seeing all life as one, we, in like measure, 
get the reward. 

Men, mere animal men, who understand noth- 
ing but self-seeking, may speak evil of us, they 
probably will, but even that cannot ' ' hurt ' ' us. 
We shall understand that such evil speaking is 
the best they know, and that, therefore, it is 
not evil to their minds. Moreover, the further 
premium to us will be a broader understanding, 
a deepening love, an increase of happiness, an 
influx of peace, a pervading sense of rest, and 
quiet sleep. 

This is a premium most of us would be will- 
ing to work for, did we but see it. And we may 
see it if we will. If we ask of life that we get 
into harmony with its purposes ; if we seek dili- 
gently even into our own hearts for those pur- 
poses ; if we knock at the door of man's full life, 
we shall find our asking answered, our search 
rewarded, and the door wide open. What a man 
desireth most, that, somehow, somewhere, shall 
be gain. Desire creates function. 

And, when the soul has gained what it sought, 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 191 

we shall find beauties and virtues hitherto un- 
suspected in every human being ; we shall learn 
that, above the turmoil and noise of our rush- 
ing, jarring, modern civilization, we can hear 
the morning stars sing together for joy, the 
music of the spheres, that which shall yet soothe 
man's fear and teach him to find restful sleep. 



CHAPTER XXXVII 

THE NEED OF BEST 

The bliss of an unbroken sleep. 

Thos. W. Parsons. 

npO go in the wrong direction delays our jour- 
*■ ney and brings fatigue, but that fatigue 
may teach us needed lessons. 

Man seeks happiness through outer things, 
hoping to find it in wealth, excitement, travel, 
self-gratification, and in countless other ways 
that the age-long experience of men have 
proved to be ineffectual ; but he usually forgets 
that the well spring of happiness is within. 
Long before Solomon had announced that ' i this 
also is vanity and vexation of spirit, ' ' men had 
observed that riches do not bring happiness; 
that excitement wearies us, that travel is un- 
satisfying, and that gratification of the senses 
ends in exhaustion. 

At last, in despair of satisfaction in the 
world, we have accepted the teaching that there 
is no rest on this side of the grave. We have 
even learned to glorify strain and the strenu- 
ous life as natural and desirable. At best, men 
have thought of rest as something that con- 

192 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 193 

cerned the body, and have confounded it with 
sleep and inaction. 

If we think we have important work to do, 
we say, " We have no time to rest," as if any 
work would be laid upon us that ought to pre- 
vent us having rest. Draught horses have been 
bred for centuries for the sole purpose of work, 
yet a wise driver never overloads nor over- 
works his horse. He sees that it is comfortably 
housed, well fed, and has its needed rest. Shall 
we think that the Spirit of Life has less con- 
sideration for man than man has for the horse? 
That were in effect to say that man were 
greater and wiser than that which caused man, 
and which man has spent the ages trying to 
understand. 

When we stop to think of this we can see how 
foolish it is, but we seldom stop to think until 
something " happens " that stops us. We go 
on from day to day thinking that we have no 
time to rest. This state of mind, which leads 
to trouble, is possible only because we do not 
understand what rest is, nor how easy it is to 
have it. We ordinarily seek rest only after we 
have become exhausted. 

When we have wearied ourselves with worry, 
useless exertion, and fretting, or with envy, 
hatred, or malice; when we have bent all our 
energies to some low aim or selfish purpose; 
when we have broken nearly all of Nature's 
laws and are called upon to pay the penalty, we 



194 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

seek a physician. A man sets a shifting stand- 
ard of wealth as his goal, and strains to attain 
it; he eats improperly and in great haste, his 
thoughts filled with the problems of the market ; 
he is forever on the alert for any advantage 
that he may take of his fellows; he cannot en- 
dure to have another reap an advantage that 
is denied him; he is envious of every bit of 
success that, passing him by, goes to another; 
he makes of his life one fierce round of money- 
getting. Then, perhaps before attaining his 
goal, perhaps after reaching it, he discovers 
himself a physical wreck, and hastens to his 
physician* seeking external means to cure that 
which has its root in internal conditions; ask- 
ing the man of drugs to " minister to a mind 
diseased. ' ' 

To the nervous, worried, hurried person, 
from whatever cause, the physician's advice is 
generally the same — " Take a complete rest," 
meaning thereby that all work be given up and 
inaction take the place of activity. When cir- 
cumstances allow it, we try to follow this ad- 
vice, but it usually results in boredom and im- 
patience at the lost time; when circumstances 
do not allow the inactivity, we get discouraged 
and complain of life as a series of mysterious, 
unjust happenings. The physician's advice 
proves a mockery and we become listless and 
discouraged. 

We hardly ever seek our rest from moment 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 195 

to moment; for we continue to look upon it as 
something we shall find after our work is done. 
The laborer, the merchant, and the professional 
man think of the end of the day as resting-time, 
just as the busy housewife does. It matters 
not how much we may love our work, we expect 
to be exhausted by our efforts before the day 
is over. We feel hurried, anxious, fretted, and 
overworked all day long, and comfort ourselves 
with the prospect of rest at night. And all the 
time we might rest and never find the day so 
short as to cause worry, nor the hours so long 
nor the work so hard as to tire us. 

It is only when we are burdened with distract- 
ing cares that we get tired by what is a joy 
to us. The true artist wants no eight-hour day; 
he laments only that daylight fades so soon. 
When we are doing only what we love to do, and 
doing it well, we run and are not weary, we walk 
and do not faint. 

Of late years the trainers of athletes have 
recognized this — they think it more important 
to keep the men buoyant and fresh than to in- 
crease the muscles at the risk of bringing them 
" stale " to the day of contest. They insist 
that the men shall not exhaust themselves at 
any time before the race. 

Exhaustion shows either that we have been 
doing the wrong thing or doing it wrong, and 
kindly Nature reproves us with the loss of 
Sleep. 



CHAPTEE XXXVIII 

SAVING OF EFFORT 

Rocked in the cradle of the deep 
I lay me down in peace to sleep. 

Emma Willard. 

rr\ HE unsatisfied longing for rest in all man- 
*■ kind will be attributed to different causes 
according to the way we look at life. The 
physical or animal man desires rest because 
of the relief it will bring to nerves and muscles 
wearied by the strain of activities ; he feels that 
to relax will bring him some ease and that 
relaxation will help him to forget the bodily 
weariness. Eecovering from weariness or pain 
is a pleasure in itself. The sigh of relief is 
really a sigh of pleasure. 

When the mind reigns, it instinctively recog- 
nizes that rest would restore the balance dis- 
turbed by feverish exertions. Our whole lives 
seem passed in a struggle to attain something, 
and the law of rhythm, which is the law of 
action and reaction, requires that, after strug- 
gle, effort should cease. One implies the other; 
neither effort nor true rest can continue stead- 

196 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 197 

ily. Effort is the breaking of rest; shadow is 
only the relative absence of light. 

It is contrast that makes sensations; the 
shadow serves to make the light brighter; the 
night makes the day more fair ; and noon makes 
the night darker. Tennyson recognized this in 
the line, " Sorrow's crown of sorrow is remem- 
bering happier things.' ' He might have said, 
with equal truth, that the present joy has a 
warmer flush because of forgotten pain. 

Wagner understood that, and so we find crash 
and seeming inharmony so often a prelude to 
the softest, tenderest strains. The mind first 
wearies of monotony, even of harmony, and 
then ceases to be able to perceive it. Wagner 
saw this, and introduced clashing sound that 
seems like discord until we feel its connection 
with the emotion and the context of the piece. 
These relieve the emotions and throw the har- 
monies into relief. Says Hobbes : to have one 
sensation and to have it continually would be 
to have none. 

The mental man feels and knows all this, and 
to him rest becomes necessary to restore that 
balance of things that contrast suggests — rest 
after effort, peace after turmoil. 

The spiritual man goes still deeper into true 
conditions in his longing for rest. Best carries 
with it the idea of attainment. He who has 
attained has peace: " Peace I leave with you; 
my peace I give unto you." 



198 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

The unity of all three desires — that of the 
body, that of the mind, and that of the spirit — 
cannot fail to strike the thinker. To cease to 
strain is the keynote of ease. Why? Because 
man sees, however dimly, that agonizing, like 
ant-agonizing, is really futile, and that the only 
thing that is necessary is to put one's self in 
harmony with the Universe. 

Herbert Spencer has shown that grace of 
movement consists in the economy of effort, in 
doing every act with the least possible waste 
of power. The same thought is the basis of the 
teaching of the great Delsarte. As Euskin 
says : ' ' Is not the evidence of ease on the very 
front of all the greatest works in existence? 
Do they not say plainly to us, not ' there has 
been a great effort here/ but ' there has been 
a great power here ' ? It is not the weariness of 
mortality, but the strength of divinity, which 
we have to recognize in all things; and this is 
just what we now never recognize, but think 
that we shall do great things by the help of iron 
bars and perspiration. Alas ! we shall do noth- 
ing that way, but lose some pounds of our own 
weight. ' ' 

The best way to attain anything is to move 
towards it with the least possible jarring or 
friction. In every struggle we lose force, be- 
cause we are sure to make unnecessary motions. 
Men do not learn this from their daily work as 
unconsciously as they once did, because ma- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 199 

chinery has so largely displaced handwork. 
But, even in using machinery, he is the best 
workman who has learned to run his machine 
and get good results with the least expenditure 
of physical effort. Such a workman remains 
fresh for a longer period, and accomplishes 
more in a given time. The machine itself is 
constructed upon the principle of saving effort 
— it cuts out all unnecessary motion and re- 
duces friction as much as possible. 

If you watch a skilled typesetter at his case, 
you will find that apparently he is never in a 
rush. The beginner, especially if he is one of 
the more nervous type, looks anxious, pauses 
with hand fluttering above the case while he 
considers in which box he will find the letter he 
seeks; then, when he has made a decision, he 
will pounce upon it and deposit it in the stick 
with breathless haste. Not so the seasoned 
compositor. There is no haste, no fluttering, 
no waste motion. His hand goes unerringly to 
the box where he will find the letter he wants, 
in a twinkling it is in place in the stick, and 
another letter disposed of in the same way, and 
you are scarcely conscious of motion. The per- 
fect workman is he who has learned to accom- 
plish most with the least expenditure of effort. 
It is toward this perfection that Frederick W. 
Taylor and others are striving in the new 
" Business Efficiency." 

Every day we are surprised to learn that 



200 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

what we gained by hard struggle has been 
gained with scarcely an effort by another. It 
does not always make ns happy to learn it. We 
often feel as if we had been tricked, and we 
think that effort spent in what we now see was 
not the most effective way, was wasted. This 
leads us sometimes to persist in a mistaken 
course, because we are unwilling to believe that 
we have lost so much time and missed so much 
result. But no effort is ever wasted : it is only 
by the effort to do well that we can learn to do 
better. 

Nothing is commoner than to hear our friends 
say, " I don't sleep — the work is so hard and 
exacting I get dead tired and then toss about 
all night." But it is not the work, rather it is 
the worker that is exacting. 



CHAPTEE XXXIX 

ANTAGONISM 

Lord of the Darkness, Master of the Sun, 
Strip me of all my strenuous life has won, 
But let Sleep 's sweet oblivion o 'er me sweep, 
Closing Night's leering eyes — oh, give me sleep! 

Anonymous. 

ril HOUGH you want rest, peace, sleep — the 
-■■ opposites of strife — yet people will op- 
pose you and want you to go their impossible 
ways. That need not arouse opposition, nor 
break your rest, nor disturb the even tenor of 
your way. One disadvantage of allowing our- 
selves to be disturbed is that we cannot be 
angry with one person without being angry 
with all about us. Or at least the harmony of 
our relation is broken, because, despite our ef- 
fort, we cannot succeed in separating ourselves 
from our brothers. The next time you are 
angry or impatient with someone who has op- 
posed you, take note how it affects your tone 
and your feeling toward those who are innocent 
of any offense. 

One such investigation into our own condi- 
tion when annoyed will help to cure us of 

201 



202 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

being angry ; for there is no use in trying to cor- 
rect all the mistakes or worrying over the neg- 
lects of others, even of the children of our own 
bodies. Other people, " the same as us," have 
to learn by their mistakes, and often do learn 
by some success that we considered manifestly 
impossible. 

As we could not be wisdom and conscience 
to the whole world, Providence has kindly given 
us enough to do in taking care of our own 
actions. 

When Mosenthal was organist at Calvary 
Church, the brides used to give him directions 
about just what pieces they wanted played at 
their weddings ; Mosenthal would say, ' ' Ah ! 
that is a beautiful selection/' or " A magnifi- 
cent march ! ' ' As he said, i i I listen to all the 
lovely ladies' orders — then I play what I think 
best — and it always goes all right." He did 
not make rows by trying to convince excited 
girls that the ' ' Mikado ' ' would not be just the 
thing for the church, or to persuade nice 
mammas without musical education that ' ' Trau- 
merei " would not do for a wedding. It was 
not necessary to lie, only to give what approval 
could be given and then to " gae his ain gait." 

Most people are not really much set in their 
own ways, they only seem to be. They have an 
idea (or they think they have one — an idea is a 
rare and precious possession) and they want to 
' ' get it off. ' ' Let them ; why should you make 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 203 

the explosion dangerous by confining it? 
Maybe they were only trying to argue with 
themselves, and, having got rid of the idea, 
they are content, if their self-love is not roused 
in defense of it. Like the codfish which de- 
posits her eggs and has no more care about 
them, they are quite content to leave the results 
to Nature. 

There was a tract called the " Oiled 
Feather/ ' which was very popular in England 
forty years ago. Sam, a wagoner, has a bottle 
of oil with a feather stuck in the cork, and, 
when a barn-door sticks or harness creaks or a 
king-bolt binds, instead of using force, he al- 
ways brings out his oil bottle and feather. His 
friend has not learned the usefulness of gentle 
methods and gets into all sorts of trouble, un- 
til he sees that the Oiled Feather principle ap- 
plies to horses and to people and to difficulties, 
as well as to things. 

" Est modus in rebus " — which means that 
" there is a way in things " just as much as in 
people: get into key with it and all will go 
smoothly. Did you ever try to split trap-rock 
with a hammer? You may batter all day at 
one side and you will only knock off chips, spoil 
your hammer, and hurt your hands : but, when 
you have found the right spot, a tap knocks it 
in pieces. That tap is the " open sesame " to 
which alone the stone will yield. You may 
storm at it all day with your " open millet " 



204 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

or " open wheat," but its heart can be reached 
only by its own word. So the stony heart of 
the world can be broken only by the Master 
Word of Love. 

Now, if you have made what is said in Chap- 
ter xxvii your own, you do not need all this; 
for you know that, as long as you arouse an- 
tagonism in others, you can be annoyed and ir- 
ritated by others, but not one moment longer. 
The punching-bag can neither dent nor be 
dented : if it is so made that it injures no one, 
it turns out that no one injures it, no matter 
how roughly he strikes it. 

When your lovelight shines in darkness, not 
only will your own path be bright, but you will 
be a guide and a comforter to others, and they 
will follow you. 



CHAPTEE XL 

STRUGGLE IN THE FAMILY 

How happy is that balm to wretches, sleep! 

Beaumont. 

IF all that we have learned were that some 
persons " naturally " work harder than 
others to achieve anything, we might say that 
this was unavoidable; and there would be a 
degree of truth in it. It is true that the intel- 
ligence of some people is so sluggish that they 
learn little from experience. They continue to 
work towards any end in the same way that 
they have always worked, wasting both strength 
and time. For them there is nothing but re- 
peated experiences and patient guidance until 
they learn to apply their knowledge practically. 
But the intelligent man learns that, often 
where he has worked in the hardest possible 
way, he has had the most unsatisfactory return 
for his effort. The good housekeeper, for in- 
stance, wishes above all things to make her 
family comfortable ; she has inherited a feeling 
of the requirements of healthy living, and de- 
cides that she must have a scrupulously clean 
house to protect her loved ones from the dan- 
gers of germs and microbes. 

205 



206 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

So she sweeps, scrubs, cleans from morning 
until night; carefully removes every trace of 
dust, follows her family with dust-pan and 
brush, and at least looks reproachfully at the 
offender who does not remove every trace of 
street or garden dirt from his shoes before en- 
tering the house. She cleans so hard that she 
forgets that the real object of cleaning is to 
make her family safe and comfortable. They 
may be safe, but they are a long way from be- 
ing comfortable, and she knows no more com- 
fort than they; cleanliness has become a fetich 
with her, and some day, perhaps, she comes to 
her senses, finding herself chasing the motes in 
a sunbeam, lest by chance they should rest upon 
her sacred furniture. 

If she then sits down to take stock of things, 
she finds that husband and children almost 
dread to come home. However serene and 
happy they may be before reaching the garden 
gate, or the apartment door, they then become 
nervous and distrait. They look themselves 
over, to be sure that nothing is amiss, for 
" mother is so particular. ' ' An anxious ex- 
pression settles upon their faces, for, with their 
best endeavors, they may have overlooked 
something that mother's trained and suspicious 
eye may note. The joy of life abates, and a 
sort of painful hush falls upon things. 

The average child cannot see that this con- 
dition grows out of misdirected love and care; 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 207 

he sees no connection between it and his well- 
being, but, if he thinks of it at all, he concludes 
that ' ' the house ' ' counts for more with mother 
than anything else. Husband and children un- 
consciously come to regard her as mainly a 
housekeeper, with interests bounded by the four 
walls of the home. The very gifts they make 
her are of a useful nature — ' ' something for the 
house " — as if the " house " were some special 
thing in her personal life but meant nothing to 
them. 

When the hungry heart of this woman pains 
her, she resents the condition that she herself 
has created, but does not see the correct rem- 
edy. Her husband and children have put her 
out of their inner lives; they take their pleas- 
ures away from home, they find their confi- 
dantes among outside friends. Who should 
share their thoughts and their pleasures? she 
asks. Who has worked day and night for their 
comfort and happiness as she has? And the 
chances are that she considers them ungrateful 
and herself a martyr, when all the time she her- 
self builds the barrier between them and herself 
by striving to make them happy in her way. 
That it is not their way, and so could not be 
in harmony with the natural trend of things, 
does not once occur to her. As the French say, 
" Madam costs herself too much." She has 
not learned, and may never learn, that the only 
way to make others happy is to love them sin- 



208 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

cerely and unselfishly enough to allow them to 
be happy in their own way. 

Sometimes it is the father who destroys the 
joy of home. A many good men think that 
their duty is done when they provide food, 
clothes, shelter, and education for their chil- 
dren, and insist upon obedience from them. 
They are so busy attending to these things that 
they have no time to get acquainted with their 
children, to know or be known by them. 

There is too much truth in the newspaper 
joke on the suburbanite. A mother found her 
little boy crying bitterly on the doorstep quite 
early on a Monday morning. 

" What is the matter, Freddie! " she asked, 
anxiously. 

" Why," sobbed the child, " I was just run- 
ning down the street when the man who stops 
here on Sundays spanked me and sent me 
home. ' ' There are many children who have no 
cause to welcome " the man who stops here on 
Sundays, ' ' even though he may be counted ' ' a 
good father." Very often he " takes a nap," 
and all noise must cease for his benefit ; or, he 
cannot read his Sunday paper while they are 
playing about. He speaks testily to his wife, 
blaming her that she does not quiet the chil- 
dren. " They have all the week to play," he 
complains, " I should think they could keep 
quiet on Sunday. It is the only day I have 
to rest, and you ought to see that I am not dis- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 209 

turbed." And the mother, who hasn't even 
Sunday to rest, quiets the children in the only 
way she knows, and everybody is wretched. 

As fast as the children grow up they leave 
home gladly for college or business, and, 
though they respect and fear " the Head of the 
Family,' ' they have no real love for him; they 
never consult him on their intimate, personal 
worries or problems, and he many times carries 
a sore heart behind his seemingly stern manner. 
He wonders why his children are so ungrateful, 
when he has spent his whole life toiling for 
them. In his bitter moments he may even call 
them monsters of ingratitude; forgetting, as 
Dickens says, that he is really looking for 
" monsters of gratitude." 

These parents, like everyone else, have it in 
their power to attract to themselves the affec- 
tion and the surroundings that they need, and 
to create a center of repose even in the midst of 
strife; rest we may attain even amid turmoil; 
but true repose means that quiet shall spread 
from us to others. 



CHAPTER XLI 



UNNATURAL LAWS 



So many Gods, so many creeds, 
So many paths that wind and wind, 
When just the art of being kind 

Is all this sad world needs. 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 

t) UT the harmony of the home does not de- 
" pend upon the parents alone. If it did, 
it would forever disprove the statement that it 
is only by a working together of all parts of 
any organization that its real purpose may be 
accomplished. A clock is intended to tell the 
time, and its mechanism is so constructed that, 
by its working together, the hands and chime 
will mark the hours. But, if we could imagine 
the hands of the clock refusing to move in the 
direction that the springs, wheels, and pendu- 
lum required, and insisting upon going their 
own way, the usefulness of the clock would be 
destroyed. 

So, in the matter of family harmony, it may 
be merely some self-willed son or daughter, 
even a child, that causes the discord. And he 
is not necessarily a " bad " child, either. He 
may be endowed with special gifts, and be par- 

210 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 211 

ticularly adapted to give joy to those about 
him. He loves his parents, his brothers and 
sisters, and also that intangible " home " that 
counts for so much in life — yet, because he loves 
his " own way " more than all else, he makes 
" home " impossible. He is so sure of his 
infallible judgment that he opposes every sug- 
gestion that does not come from himself; he 
offers free advice on every possible and impos- 
sible occasion; he " takes sides " on every 
question that arises, and considers any opposi- 
tion as a personal attack or affront. He is not 
conscious of these or of any other faults, yet 
every remark, every act is tested by its possi- 
ble reference to himself. He looms so large in 
his own foreground that he cannot see how he 
could be unimportant to anybody's life or 
thought. He broods over fancied wrongs and 
thinks himself the most ill-used of mortals. 
Everybody is unhappy where he is, and he is 
most unhappy of all. 

For it is a well-established fact, one which 
we may find proved every day both in our own 
experience and the experience of other people, 
that he who makes another unhappy generally 
makes himself still more wretched. 

If our experience shows us any exceptions to 
this rule, it is, after all, only in seeming. He 
who can make another unhappy and not be con- 
scious of it, is among those whom Epictetus 
calls blind in that knowledge which distinguish- 



212 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

eth right from wrong. He has not felt his close 
relation, or, indeed, any relation to his fellows. 
He cannot know any of the joys of fellowship, 
and he will not find the pleasure he expects even 
in his own pursuits. For it matters little, so 
far as seeing is concerned, whether a man be 
born blind, or whether he keeps his eyes tightly 
bandaged all his days. In either case he gets 
none of the sensations of pleasure that come 
from being able and willing to see. If we per- 
sist in having " our own way," we must pay 
the price. Most of the miseries of life are 
caused by failure to get in harmony with the 
laws of life. This is as simple and self-evident 
as walking up the street. If we persist in keep- 
ing to the left on a busy sidewalk, we shall be 
jostled and pushed until we are sore and out 
of breath and make but little headway withal. 
But, if we are careful to walk with the crowd 
going in our direction, if we remember always 
to keep to the right, we shall find it easy to get 
along even at the " rush " hour. Those who 
do not observe this rule of harmonious progress 
not only find walking on a busy street hard 
work, but they also make it harder for others. 
One man walking the wrong way may compel 
twenty more to violate the sidewalk customs to 
overcome his opposition. But, when everyone 
observes the rule, it leads to a saving of time 
and temper and makes life safer for all who are 
in the crowd. 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 213 

Generally speaking, we recognize no law but 
that of our own will, which is by no means the 
same thing as the far-wider law of our being. 
We cannot separate our lives from the greater 
life. While we follow the law of our own will, 
self-will, we never know real happiness or rest. 
Like many another man-made law, our antago- 
nistic wills are a perversion of the natural law 
which governs our lives. 



SLEEP'S CONQUEST 

Invisible armies come, we know not whence, 
And like a still, insinuating tide 
Encompass us about on every side, 
Imprisoning each weary outpost sense, 
Till thought is taken, sleeping in his tents! 
Yet now the conquerer with lofty pride 
Becomes our guardian, with us doth abide 
And plans all night our wondrous recompense. 
He takes away the weary, worn-out day, 
And brings to-morrow — bride without a stain; 
Gives us fresh liberty, a chance to mend; 
Life, hope, and friends enhanced with fresh array. 
Then when we fail he conquers us again, 
Paroling us each day until the end. 

Charles H. Crandall. 

(Courtesy of Harper & Brothers.) 



CHAPTEE XLH 

THE NATUKAL LAW 

DUT what is the law of our being! It is har- 
-"-* mony, peace, rest. We have but to look at 
the workings of our own marvelous physical 
bodies to perceive that law. The more we study 
the human body, the more we wonder at its 
mechanism. Yet every part of this intricate 
machinery, in harmony with each other part, 
finds its own work, unless man, through his mis- 
understanding, throws it out of order. 

Perhaps the strongest proof of the naturally 
harmonious working of the body is found in the 
responsive distress or disease which result 
from the wrong use of any one function. It is 
not necessary to cut the heart itself to injure 
it. To sever an artery anywhere will interfere 
with the perfection of the heart's work as ef- 
fectively as a direct injury to the heart. To 
bring bad news may stop its action forever. 

It is not necessary to strike the head to cause 
a headache; that will follow if we abuse the 
stomach, or live so that the liver becomes de- 
ranged. We get these results because of the 
perfect harmony in which all the parts of the 
body work when we conform to the law of our 

215 



216 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

being. The pain is a kindly monitor, warning 
us that we have violated some law and bidding 
us get into line once more. It is always wise 
to heed such warning, gratefully. 

Suppose that a man has a cellar which is so 
dark and damp and dirty that he hates to go 
into it, and tries to forget it. But it is flooded 
in a storm, and he is forced to go down to ex- 
amine it, and then finds that the wall is unsafe, 
and must be supported, else the house may fall. 
Will he not say, " It was well that the flood 
came that took me down into the depths, so that 
I might find what was endangering my property 
and the lives of my family ! ' ' 

And if, in addition, he not only reinforces and 
buttresses the wall, but also lets in the light and 
cleans up the cellar, he will actually remove out 
of his life what was always a disagreeable and 
neglected task. He will add to the value of his 
property, and have besides a security in his 
house that he would never have had but for 
the " accident." 

So we, if we heed the first pain that tells us 
we have violated the law of harmony in our 
physical body, may be led into a better and 
truer understanding of ourselves than ever 
before. 

If the law of the physical body is harmony, 
peace, rest, it must be true that the law of the 
intelligence and the law of the spirit are the 
same. If it were not so, there would be con- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 217 

stant warring between the three natures — 
physical, intellectual, and emotional — and hap- 
piness and rest would be impossible. 

Harmony, peace, rest are the blessings that 
all men crave, even when they do not under- 
stand their own desires. To say that peace and 
rest are inherently impossible of attainment 
is to say that we are formed with desires that 
tantalize and torment us, as a mirage tantalizes 
the traveler dying of thirst in the desert, with 
no hope of satisfying those desires. It is in 
effect to say that a cruel monster governs this 
world and takes delight in our suffering. 

He who tries with apparent disregard of har- 
mony to enforce his own will is, after all, striv- 
ing in his blind and hopeless way for harmony. 
He thinks that to make his will supreme would 
bring peace, and so he tries to have his own 
way: that accounts for much tyranny, espe- 
cially domestic tyranny. 

That so few do attain happiness and rest in 
their lives is because of this misunderstanding 
of life rather than from any inability to gain 
happiness and rest. We allow trifles to dis- 
tract us from our real purpose. We feel our- 
selves so pressed and oppressed by petty cares 
that we cannot find time during the day to do 
all that we feel we must do. It would be well 
for us to follow Pitt's rule, to do our part in 
the world instead of trying to run it. 

If that rule worked in his high and re- 



218 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

sponsible position, it would probably work in 
our less important places. Most of us spend 
our strength for that which is naught, largely 
because we do not examine the nature of the 
" duty " which presents itself to us. We should 
probably find that our duties are not worth do- 
ing, or else that another could do them as well. 
Eest brings sleep more than sleep brings 
rest. 



CHAPTER XLIII 



In sleep's sweet fetters bound. 

Lord Neaves. 

A FREQUENT cause of suffering among 
men and women is their idea that they are 
necessary to the running of things. Usually 
they find themselves mistaken. The head of a 
firm was once warned by a physician that he 
must take a rest to avert a breakdown, but the 
man declared it to be an impossibility for him 
to get away from the office for even a week. He 
gripped his business so tight that he could not 
let go, nor could he see that others could do 
it as well as he could. In such a state of mind 
the doctor's warning added another worry, fear 
for himself, — so at last the predicted breakdown 
came. He had reached the point where he had 
to let go, for his grip, both physical and men- 
tal, was gone. For six months he could not 
concern himself with business affairs, the ne- 
cessity of fighting for life and renewed health 
occupying all his faculties. He refused to let 
himself think of the outcome, but put his atten- 
tion upon getting well. 

219 



220 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

When he returned to his business, with his 
mind braced to stand any disasters that he 
might discover, he was astonished to find every- 
thing in perfect condition, and that his assist- 
ant had even corrected the errors he had him- 
self made in the last weeks of overworked body 
and fagged brain. It was at first a blow to 
his pride that he was not essential to the suc- 
cess of his own business, but, as he realized 
how big a price he had paid to learn this sim- 
ple lesson, he made a decision that showed how 
far he had advanced beyond his former 
condition. 

Turning to his assistant, he said: " Smith, as 
you can carry on this business so well, I shall 
take three months' vacation every year, and 
have no more expensive breakdowns; and, as 
I want you to continue to carry it on as well 
while I am away, you would better take three 
months ' vacation every year, too, so there shall 
be no breakdowns for you." He had really 
learned two lessons in one — what things were 
not worth doing, and what things could be done 
by somebody else. He still had left " the 
things that were quite enough for any man to 
attempt." 

No man is really indispensable to any un- 
dertaking, however much it may seem so to 
him. When James Alexander controlled the 
Equitable Life Assurance Society, he made it 
his rule to discharge anybody who seemed to 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 221 

be indispensable. His reason for this was that, 
the longer such a man was retained, the more 
indispensable he would become, until the asso- 
ciation would be in danger of going to smash if 
anything happened to that one man. Common 
prudence dictated the advisability of getting 
rid of him while the company could manage to 
get along somehow without him. 

There was once a Dutchman who was of much 
the same opinion as Mr. Alexander. His man- 
ager applied for an increase of salary. 

" I t'ink I buys you bretty dear, alretty, 
Hans. ,, " Yes," said Hans, " I get a good sal- 
ary, but then I am worth it. I know everything 
and do everything about the business; in fact, 
you couldn't get along without me." 

" Ach, ish dot so? Veil; vat I do if you vas 
deat, Hans? " 

" Oh, well! if I were dead, you'd have to get 
along without me." 

" Ach! ' replied the Dutchman, slowly, 
" den, Hans, I t'inks we gonsiders you deat." 

It is well to think sometimes of how nicely 
the world got along before we came to it, and 
how likely it is to do just as well after we have 
left it. If, when we are rushing around, 
weighed down by anxiety and a feeling of our 
own importance, we should ' ' consider ourselves 
dead " for a few moments, we might find that 
the fever of life had subsided. 

We should have to admit that, judging from 



222 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

the past, the world would not even slip a cog 
if we were to pass from it. And even if we 
were ready to claim that no one heretofore had 
been so important, and no one could ever again 
be so necessary, even then it were the part 
of wisdom to cease hurrying and worrying. 
For, as the human frame can be exhausted by 
overwork and overworry, it behooves the indis- 
pensable person to preserve himself as long as 
possible, so as to save the world from the catas- 
trophe of his loss. The very thing he aims to 
do — save the world — he defeats by his anxiety 
and haste. 

Proper prudence tends to prevent trouble, 
not to prevent worry. No amount of precau- 
tion and care will cure worry. In fact, the 
prudence and care help to fix the thought on 
all the mischances, however improbable or im- 
possible, that may be imagined. 

Elaborate precautions often defeat them- 
selves, like a corporal who kept all his squad 
out as pickets till they were cut off one by one. 

I once saw a family going off to the country, 
five " masters " and three servants, eight hand- 
packages, coachman, footman, and an extra 
servant, and the family doctor to get them off. 
The cautious doctor got the tickets days before, 
and even got checks for the trunks. An extra 
trunk, taken at the last hour to hold some extra 
things that might be needed, upset all that 
arranging. 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 223 

The doctor went to the baggage-room in the 
gray dawn to get that precautionary trunk 
checked : after a long discussion about the place, 
he arranged to meet the family at the railway 
news-stand. The caretaker was shown once 
more how to work the burglar alarm, from 
which a necessary knob came off in the nervous 
hand of the Master of Cares — " telephone for 
the electrician ' ' ; but at last the blinds were 
carefully pulled down, the house shut up 
and committed to Providence and the care- 
taker, and the family and its familiars arrived 
at the station nearly an hour before train-time, 
i ' getting off so nicely. ' ' 

The Genius of Forethought sent out a pair 
of scouts to find the doctor. They returned, to 
report that there were three news-stands, but 
the doctor was not at any of them. 

Then this Genius of Care went himself with 
one of the scouts, a long and hurried walk to 
the baggage-room, — not there. 

Meanwhile, the doctor, who had stayed to 
see the trunks off, had found the main body 
with its camp-followers and light baggage. All 
stood in the station near a news-stand and 
waited for the return of the expedition, till 
the doctor got impatient as train-time ap- 
proached and went off to find the Head of the 
House, who arrived in a flurry, having lost his 
own head a few minutes after he had gone 
with the tickets. 



224 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

At last, after the pilgrimage from the ticket- 
gate down to the parlor-car, they are in the 
train, all safe, thank God; but the Genius of 
Care did not sleep that night " on account of 
the worry and fuss of getting off." That was 
not the doctor's fault. Like Martha, he had 
made his own punishment the same as the rest 
of us by being iC careful about many things." 

I remember an Irish servant who was shown 
one of our big banks with its huge window-bars, 
to make it safe. " Sure," she said, " what's 
the good of them things ? The thieves is inside 
and not out." 

"Worry is inside and not out, and Sleep, like 
the Kingdom of Heaven, is not taken by force. 



CHAPTEE XLIV 

REST IF TRUTH 

The timely dew of sleep. 

Milton. 

I T is not our work that wears us, but the way 
* we take it. So long as we think of rest as 
meaning only inactivity, just so long will the 
activities of life exhaust us. Goethe said: 

1 ' Rest is not quitting the busy career, 
Rest is fitting oneself for one's sphere.' ' 

When we do that, we find rest. But we may ask 
what is one 's sphere and how may one fit one 's 
self for it? If we wish to answer that truly, 
we must be willing to have some common mis- 
conceptions brushed away. The sphere of any 
individual is limited only by the possibilities of 
his own body, mind, and spirit. Our sphere is 
not a small circle of activities whose bounda- 
ries any man may mark. It widens as our 
inner nature expands, and what was the hori- 
zon line yesterday will be but a tiny hillock near 
at hand to-morrow. It includes all that has 
been achieved, and all that may be attained by 
the race. 

225 



226 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

The best standard of our life is not only what 
the race as a whole has achieved in the way of 
development, but the highest and best that any 
person has yet taught or lived; this is the true 
measure of man's sphere to-day. Ordinarily, 
we talk of man's sphere and woman's sphere 
as if there were a clear line of separation be- 
tween them, and each were continued in its own 
little space. This could not be, for, so long as 
men and women have the same three natures — 
bodily, mental, spiritual — so long as we have 
similar needs, aims, and aspirations, the larger 
sphere of man, whether male or female, is the 
same, and is bounded only by the possibili- 
ties of the life of all three natures. 

To fit one's self for such a sphere should 
bring rest while we are doing it, because 
that fitting means becoming harmonious with 
the purposes of the larger life; and rest is 
simply harmony, at-one-ness with the Uni- 
verse. 

The possibilities of the life of all three 
natures are inexhaustible. We have never 
touched the limit of even the physical man. 
Man at one time had only his hands for tools, 
and so was limited in his powers. But he used 
his mind to increase the power of his hands, and 
reached out for sticks and stones to help him. 
In time his thought devised implements that 
increased his physical power a thousandfold, 
until now he has harnessed not only steam, but 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 227 

the very currents of the air, and is making him- 
self all-powerful. 

He does not wholly understand the forces he 
tries to control, but he studies them, experi- 
ments upon them, and makes servants of them 
as far as he has grasped their laws. Had he 
insisted upon considering his mind and his 
physical powers as entirely separate and re- 
fused to use them together, he might still have 
claws for hands, and might still be a mere 
bur rower in the earth. Moreover, his mind 
would not have developed as it has. Steam 
and electricity might have aroused his curios- 
ity, but he would not have known how to make 
them to do his will. 

Further, if man had been able to keep his 
intellect apart from his spirit, he would not 
have developed the qualities that lift him 
above the more intelligent animals. Sympathy 
and justice and love would not have come into 
his relations with his fellow-men. 

These moral feelings expressed in our 
bodies, our minds, and our hearts are some of 
the possibilities of the life of all three natures, 
and to endeavor to know and harmonize them, 
thus " fitting one's self for one's sphere," 
would bring us the happiness that follows ac- 
tion and the rest that flows from selfless pur- 
pose or harmony. 

If we consider what the true object of life 
is, we cannot help trying to see the connection 



228 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

between the three natures of man. It does not 
seem possible that the life of any thinking being 
was intended to be a purposeless jarring jum- 
ble, or, as poor Stephen Blackpool said, " a' a 
muddle.' ' We find such harmony in the life 
of the material world that we may expect to 
find a similar harmony in the life of man. So 
soon as we discover this, we see also that there 
must be harmony between the life of the ma- 
terial world and the life of man, and further 
harmony between both the material and the 
human life, and the Source of all life. Seeing 
this, and living it, is fitting ourselves for our 
sphere, preparing ourselves to take our des- 
tined places in the Universe as Men and 
[Women. 



CHAPTER XLV 

THE SPAN OF LIFE 

We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our 

little life 
Is rounded with a sleep. 

Shakespeare. 

/^\NLY a generation ago it was the custom 
^^ for men and women to begin to grow old 
at about forty-five. A person of fifty was al- 
ways called ' ' old, ' ' and a man was expected to 
be decrepit at sixty, a woman much earlier. It 
is not wonderful that such men begrudged the 
time spent in sleep. 

When I was a boy, we used shamelessly to 
print books in big type, indorsed " For the 
Aged," on the theory that everyone must be 
nearly blind at maturity. Even now Dr. George 
F. Stevens thinks that everyone " ought " to 
wear glasses after forty, notwithstanding that 
many Christian Scientists and Mental Scien- 
tists discard them long after that age. 

There is as much truth as wit in the saying 
that " A man is as old as he feels, a woman 
as old as she says she is." We used to insist 
upon every year being counted and noted, too, 



230 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

in dress, occupation, and general demeanor. 
But we have changed all this — even natty dress 
now common to older people shows it — but the 
change has come about slowly, and there are 
still many who think that people of sixty should 
give up all active life and prepare to ' ' grow old 
gracefully, ' ' that is, to drop willingly into 
senility. Those who are willing so to slip into 
uselessness quietly, need much sleep; but even 
for them the sleep is not a waste of time, but 
an aid to length of days. 

There has been a great deal too much willing- 
ness to let go of active life, because of the idea 
that •■ threescore years and ten " was the nat- 
ural limit of man's life, and that to live be- 
yond seventy-five was to live upon " borrowed 
time. ' ' There is a sort of tickle for the mental 
palate in that expression " borrowed time," but 
there is no substance in it, if we will but ex- 
amine it. How can there be " borrowed " time 
and from whom is it borrowed ? 

Life is not a thing that begins to-day and 
ends to-morrow. So far as we know, it has 
neither beginning nor end. It is beyond our 
power to picture a limit to all life. Well, if 
life has neither beginning nor end, if it has no 
limits, and if time is merely the unit by which 
we measure seasons, why should there be a 
limit to what we can use of it, and how could 
a continued use of it be called ' ' borrowing ' ' f 

In the earlier days of the race, when all 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 231 

progress was made through might, and war 
settled every question, when a man's " work " 
meant chasing over the hills, when men fared 
hard, and knew little of Nature ; when fear was 
the supreme emotion — it is probable that sev- 
enty years represented a long life. To escape 
all the chances of death from accident and igno- 
rance for so long a time was an achievement, 
and, in this way, doubtless, seventy years came 
to be regarded as the natural period of man's 
physical existence. 

But with our increasing knowledge, with the 
extension of means for making life easier, with 
our conquest of Nature, there is no excuse for 
limiting ourselves or our fellows to the same 
short span. Consequently man's life began to 
extend over a longer and longer period as the 
risks of living were diminished by civilization. 
War became a less common condition ; the very 
inventions for making war more destructive of 
life helped to make people consider whether 
disputes could not be more wisely settled. The 
next step was a natural outcome of that reason- 
ing. The latest wars have had more casualties 
and less fatalities; partly because the effort 
has been to incapacitate the fighting-men rather 
than to kill them off. We have begun to see 
dimly, at least, that the taking of life does not 
settle any question. This leads to a greater re- 
spect for life, and from respect to preservation 
is an easy step. 



232 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

The intelligent man to-day does not make his 
whole life a mere struggle to exist for his " al- 
lotted span." Bather, he aims to preserve and 
prolong his life by exertion and, even more, 
by repose. He has learned that, while it is 
true that " not enjoyment and not sorrow is 
our destined end or way," yet to enjoy, in the 
sense of understanding life and living, is to 
live so that " each to-morrow find us farther 
than to-day." 

To enjoy life is to use it wisely; to get the 
most out of it that will make for happiness 
and development. It will not help to that end 
to worry or lose sleep, because man's span of 
life is short. Love with your whole heart, and 
live according to reason, and you* will win the 
prize of sleep, and happiness and length of 
days shall be added thereunto. 



CHAPTEE XLVI 

WASTE STEAM 

IF there is one thing more than another for 
which Americans are noted, it is " nervous 
energy/ ' To this we attribute our notable 
achievements in science, industry, and litera- 
ture. To this energy, also, or rather to the 
misuse of it, may be attributed the dyspepsia, 
the nervous headaches, the general " break- 
downs/ ' and the suicides so much more preva- 
lent of late years. 

An abundant supply of nervous energy is one 
of the blessings of life, it denotes almost un- 
limited capacity for work and enjoyment. It 
is the steam that drives the engine ; and which, 
under the control of a skilled engineer, pulls 
the train upgrade as well as on the level. It is 
only through ignorance or carelessness that the 
engine is allowed to run wild, and destroys 
that which it was meant to convey safely. 

So with the people who " go to pieces nerv- 
ously." There has been an unskilled hand on 
the lever. Through ignorance or carelessness, 
the nervous energy has been badly handled, and 
the force that should convey us safely through 

233 



234 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

life has caused our destruction. We should be 
as careful with our minds as with our 
machines. 

When we find ourselves getting nervous and 
worried, sleepless, " blue," or dyspeptic; or 
showing any of the numerous signs of misdi- 
rected energy, such as short temper or head- 
aches, we should take a day off to examine the 
engine. It is time well spent, as we may thereby 
learn something that will avert a complete 
breakdown. 

If we find that we are not overeating, over- 
working, or overworrying ; not feeling animos- 
ity, nor suffering from an excessive idea of per- 
sonal importance — if, in fact, there are no 
fears gnawing our heartstrings nor any other 
large and well-defined cause of trouble, we may 
well look closer for small causes. " The foxes 
— the little foxes that spoil the vines.' ' 

There are often disturbing causes that we 
fail to notice as disturbing. For instance, dis- 
order about us, the habit of stirring everything 
up and throwing everything around when we 
set to work. The confusion communicates itself 
to our feelings, besides which the uncertainty 
as to where we have put what we want next 
upsets our nerves. 

It is a good plan, when we find ourselves 
" rattled " or not working easily, to stop and 
clear things up, put everything in order. It 
is marvelous how often that will smooth out 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 235 

the creases both in face and temper and make 
the world look pleasant again. 

If that itself proves to be a certain strain or 
an annoyance, leave the whole thing and go out 
for a while, or take a nap, or even smoke, if you 
do not feel that smoking hurts you. Anything 
that will distract the attention from the seem- 
ingly annoying circumstances will relieve the 
pressure on overwrought nerves and allow the 
system to regain its poise. 

At this point it will sometimes serve to put 
into practice the rule that William Pitt, Prime 
Minister of Great Britain, laid down for him- 
self : When overwhelmed with official duties, he 
divided his work into three parts — that which 
was not worth doing, that which would do it- 
self, and that which was quite enough for any 
man to attempt. Make a list of all the things 
you have to do, then go over that list and make 
it into three. Pick out first the things that 
could be left undone, because not really worth 
the effort they require. Having settled them, 
you will find your load already lightened. 

Next select those things that you want to do, 
but which somebody else could do just as well. 
Make that list carefully. It is the hardest one 
of the three. It is comparatively easy to de- 
cide that a thing we may wish to do is not 
worth the effort it will cost, but it is quite an- 
other matter to admit that somebody else could 
do those things just as well. 



236 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

And there is a reason for this feeling apart 
from mere ordinary conceit, although it may 
only be a more subtle form of conceit — self- 
approbativeness, as the phrenologists call it. It 
has its rise in our belief that, while our way of 
doing that particular thing may be no better 
than another's way, yet it is " different/ ' and 
we long to see the result of that different way. 
Nevertheless, it may be that the best good of 
all concerned requires that somebody else do 
that thing, and our nervous restlessness is 
merely a warning for us to omit doing it our- 
selves. 

Then, in the things left on the original list, 
we shall find all that one person should under- 
take, and we shall do them with a zest and ease 
that could not have been ours working in any 
other way. For myself, when all else fails, and 
none of these devices does away with the feel- 
ing of being pushed by my work, I close my 
desk and go for a walk. If soothed, I return in 
an hour or two and take up my work easily; 
otherwise, I leave it all until another day; it 
saves time in the end. Circumstances prevent 
many persons from doing that: but we can do 
it, in greater or less degree, far of tener than we 
think. 

It is always advisable to stop long enough 
to find out what is the matter. If a good en- 
gineer finds his engine running hard, he ex- 
amines it to finds the trouble. If your watch 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 237 

goes irregularly, yon take it to an expert to 
find the canse of irregularity. Why should we 
be less careful with our minds? 

What is needed is simply obedience to the 
laws of Nature that we know, but the case may 
be one for the physical culturist, for the mental 
therapeutist, for the moral teacher, or even for 
the alienist. Where common sense fails or is 
wanting, we should consult an expert before it 
is too late. (See Appendix A.) 



CHAPTER XLVII 

UNDERSTANDING 

Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber ; 
Thou hast no figures and no fantasies, 
Which busy care draws in the brains of men ; 
Therefore thou sleep 'st so sound. 

Shakespeare. 

ALL unrest and uneasiness, all impatience 
and disharmony are due to some misun- 
derstanding of life and its unity, of its un- 
changing and unchangeable laws. Froebel's 
recognition of this principle created his idea of 
education as growth by exercise, the greatest 
definition of training that has yet been given to 
the world. He says that education consists in 
relating the individual life to the external life, 
the inner to the outer, or, in other words, it 
consists in getting the individual into harmony 
with the whole of life. 

This is the substance of the doctrine of all 
the great thinkers of the world, the essential 
oneness in the teachings of all the philosophers 
of every race and of all the ages. Each gives 
expression to the special side of this oneness 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 239 

that presented itself most strongly to him, but 
on the plan of life they agree. 

Although many of the followers of these 
great teachers have been able to see the beauty 
of their conceptions, few have been able to 
transmit them as pure and bright as they re- 
ceived them. It is by no means easy to avoid 
interpreting what we hear in a merely per- 
sonal way. Seldom do the " hearers of the 
Word " have the humility " of the broken and 
empty vessel,' ' so well expressed in a hymn at 
one time popular among revivalists: 

" Empty, that He might fill me 
As forth to His service I go ; 
Broken, that so unhindered 
His life through me might flow." 

Instead of that, we have tried to make the truth 
fit our ideas of " personal " life, when we 
should have made our " personal " life fit the 
truth. 

One cannot conceive of the Universe grow- 
ing weary, of infinity becoming exhausted, be- 
cause material science has shown us that har- 
monious laws govern all life. Scientists have 
been able to state laws that experience has 
shown to be unfailingly true. For example, take 
the heavenly bodies : through the study and com- 
parison of their motions, astronomers have 
stated laws that apply to all that is known of 



240 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

them, and which illustrate the perfection of the 
solar system. To-day, if some asteroid is dis- 
covered which seems to move in opposition to 
known laws, no one supposes that the laws are 
wrong. So impossible is any haphazard occur- 
rence in the solar system that astronomers 
know that any disturbance simply shows some 
existence or activity not hitherto observed. 
They do not doubt the unchangeable universal 
nature of the laws ; but they recognize that only 
lack of knowledge prevents our understanding 
the relation of what we see to the laws that 
govern it, and they bend every effort to the 
solution of the mystery. 

If we but look upon the occurrences of hu- 
man life with the same confidence, there is no 
cause for worry and uneasiness. Why should 
man chafe? Because of those who do ill? 
" Fret not thyself because of evildoers," for 
they, too, have their uses. Every man is in the 
plan of God. It may be that he is here simply 
to show us something that we should not other- 
wise have seen. Had not someone done the ill 
and made the results known, many men might 
have made like mistakes and the consequences 
have been much worse than they are. Says 
Ernest Crosby: 

" I thank the kind round-shouldered men 
And treat them with respect 
For teaching me to raise my chin 
And hold myself erect.' ' 



THE GIFT OP SLEEP 241 

No man can tell how much more he owes to 
the things that he would have made different 
had he shaped his own life, than to the things 
he regards as good. 

Most advances that we accomplish are forced 
upon us by circumstances with which we are dis- 
contented, and our happiness consists in recog- 
nizing that there is, in effect, no such thing as 
misfortune. There is no chance in the world: 
everything is the result of Energy; nothing 
ever happens by accident. I said once to a 
woman standing beside the coffin of her hus- 
band, trying to comfort her and trying to teach 
myself, " You know, this did not happen by 
chance." " No," she said, " I know that; if 
one chance got loose, it would wreck the world." 
So it would. 

You toss up a coin and it seems to you to be 
chance whether it comes down heads or tails. 
It isn't chance at all. If one thing happened 
by chance, you would know that it was the end 
of natural law. Suppose that the thing to be 
tossed were an iron plate, ten feet across by 
two feet thick, then the engineer could figure 
out just how many pounds of powder would turn 
it once and how many would turn it twice or 
three times ; and, if you told him when he had 
adjusted his charge that it was chance which 
side would come up, he would say that you did 
not understand dynamics. He knows that there 
is no chance about it ; that the number of turns 



242 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

depends exactly upon the amount of force, and 
how it is applied. So it is with the tossing of 
the penny; it may seem to be chance to us be- 
cause we cannot measure or perceive the 
causes, but its fall is as directly and fixedly 
due to causes as the sinking of an ocean- 
liner. 

It is not likely that Charles Dickens would 
have chosen the hard childhood he had if he 
could have arranged his own life, but there is 
little room to doubt that much of his under- 
standing and sympathy, much of the power 
that made him the novelist of the masses, was 
due to those experiences. Even though he may 
never have seen during his life how necessary 
those experiences were, nor accepted them phil- 
osophically, that did not alter their use. The 
work of the " evildoers " in giving Socrates 
hemlock to drink did not destroy Socrates' use- 
fulness; the death by the cross did not check 
the spread of the good news the Nazarene 
brought to man. 

Men have always stoned the prophets and 
killed those who would bring deliverance. This 
is an expression of the conservatism which is 
the balance-wheel of the race : if it were not for 
that, the leaders of the people would get so far 
in advance as to be clear out of sight. But 
the prophecies have been fulfilled, and, step by 
step, deliverance has been won. Moreover, 
whom one generation destroyed, succeeding 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 243 

generations have honored; it is impossible to 
get the rear rank in line with the vanguard. 
But wherein has evil triumphed or the law of 
good been set aside! 

In the study of history we see the persistent 
progress of the race. However slow the march, 
it has always been from darkness into light, 
from low aims and small ideas to higher pur- 
poses and larger thoughts. Each nation has 
contributed something to the sum of that prog- 
ress. Not only have they had glimpses at their 
best of better things, but even at their worst 
they have caused other nations to see and avoid 
like errors or cruelties. In this way the 
civilized and the savage have both helped to 
advance civilization. And, if the blind works 
of evildoers clo not triumph over the plans of 
• Good, if they do not even hinder the working 
of the law of universal good, why should we 
fret ourselves because of them? 

But the unrest may be caused by our lack of 
that worldly success which we think would 
bring us happiness. Of course, if the real de- 
sire be worldly success, and there is no other 
way in which we can learn that it will not bring 
happiness, then we must attain worldly suc- 
cess. To-day, this demands a resolute will, 
concentration, a steady nerve, and a lack of 
human sympathy. It is difficult for us to see 
this in our own case when we make worldly 
success our aim, but, if we examine the career 



244 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

of any " successful " man, we shall see how 
true it is. 

Nothing is truer of modern business life than 
that the success of one involves the failure or 
seeming failure of many. We have but to look 
around at the few who are acclaimed by the 
world as successful business men and the many 
who toil for a bare subsistence, to find the proof 
of this. To succeed, a man must first resolve 
to succeed, and must concentrate all his powers 
to that end. He must have iron nerves so that 
unexpected good- or ill-fortune may not upset 
him, and he must so steel his heart that he may 
not see the needs or hear the groans of his 
suffering fellows, if to hear or heed would in- 
terfere with his purpose. 

After men have attained worldly success, 
they sometimes give liberally to charity and 
public purposes. Nobody has yet revealed how 
much of that giving is atonement for the half- 
remembered times when some heart was hard- 
ened, some ear deafened, and some hand tight 
closed against the cry of the needy. Some rich 
men unhappily become so hard of heart, so 
bound by the habit of refusing, that giving be- 
comes an impossibility. 

Now worry and unrest upset the nerve, dis- 
turb the concentration, and keep alive at least 
one phase of human sympathy — that which we 
call irritation. We do not usually regard irri- 
tation as an expression of sympathy, but that 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 245 

is just what it is. Irritation towards our fel- 
lows is an indication that we cannot rid our- 
selves of the knowledge that they have claims 
upon us. It is an evidence that we do not un- 
derstand them, or that we are not in harmony 
with them. That may be because their aims are 
so different from ours that they are a standing 
rebuke to our selfishness, or because their aims 
are so similar to ours that they become a threat 
to us. In either event they are forced upon our 
attention, and we are unable to forget them. 
We are not able to crush them ruthlessly if 
they stand in our way, for to do so causes us 
pain and dissatisfaction, and prevents our joy 
in our success. Sometimes, when the pain and 
dissatisfaction become keen enough, they may 
even turn us from our purpose, and thus de- 
stroy our chance of worldly success. 

Thus worry and unrest defeat the very thing 
we are aiming at, and leave us out of harmony 
with the laws governing the accomplishment of 
our purpose. Even in business and in matters 
of health, that rest which comes from a cool, 
steady purpose, undisturbed by fretfulness or 
impatience, is the main factor of success. 



CHAPTER XLVin 

THE SUPERSTITION OP FEAB 

Fear of Death thus dies in senseless sleep. 

Beaumont, 

PRIMITIVE man feared thunder, and, 
-*- being unable to explain it, made a god of 
it, offered sacrifices to it in the hope of avert- 
ing the harm it might do. Fear has perverted 
many religions. What man feared he first 
crouched before in helpless terror, and after- 
wards knelt before in wonder and worship. In 
the early days of the race he looked upon every 
new or strange thing with terror, because he 
did not understand its connection with the 
things he knew. 

Man first knew himself as a physical creature 
with certain needs and cravings that must be 
gratified if he were to live at all. He did not 
at first realize that the presence of another per- 
son would make life easier and more secure for 
him; rather, he feared that every other would 
injure him. Later, as men formed themselves 
into groups, clans and tribes, each recognized 
the interests of the immediate group as of su- 
preme importance, but feared the other groups. 

246 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 247 

This was the origin of ' ' Honor thy father and 
thy mother, that thy days may be long in the 
land." Those families that obeyed their natu- 
ral leader, the patriarch, held together and sur- 
vived; the others were separated and de- 
stroyed. The early records of the Jews are 
scarcely more than a chronicle of the wars of 
a coherent race against various other tribes in- 
habiting that part of Asia, together with the 
lessons to be drawn from its experience. Even 
in the vast new continent of America, different 
tribes of Indians roving its plains looked upon 
other tribes with distrust and hatred, and made 
war upon them. There was plenty of land; ani- 
mal life abounded; there was nothing in the 
aims and pursuits of one tribe that was neces- 
sarily injurious to any other, yet apprehension 
and the superstition of enmity kept them apart. 

The world has not yet got rid of this old su- 
perstition. In this modern Christian era there 
is scarcely a civilized nation which does not 
keep itself in readiness to attack its neighbor. 
All the peace the nations yet know is an armed 
peace, so that even when we cry, " Peace, 
peace ! "we know ' ' there is no peace, ' ' because 
man does not yet trust his fellowman. He is 
fearful of him, not only as encroaching upon 
his actual territory, but he resents his competi- 
tion even in the making of the tools and goods 
that civilized life demands. 

We erect tariff walls, that the people of other 



248 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

countries may not easily sell to us the goods 
they make, forgetting that, even without those 
walls, they could not sell their goods to us, if we 
did not want them. For, in free buying and 
selling, the desire must be mutual, else there 
will be no exchange. 

In all the relations of the most modern 
civilized society the effect of this distrust, of 
one toward another, is plain to be seen. Even 
those who devote their lives to preaching the 
doctrine of the gentle Nazarene do not always 
grasp the full significance of that doctrine. The 
city of Toledo, Ohio, is blessed with a mayor 
who has lost all distrust in man (or perhaps 
he never learned it) and, in his efforts to ad- 
minister civic affairs on a basis of love and 
understanding, he is finding his strongest op- 
ponents in some of the preachers of the com- 
munity. Such is the blinding effect of misun- 
derstanding the unity of all life. 

It cannot, therefore, be a matter of surprise 
to the student of present-day affairs that his 
ancestors were slow to learn about other groups 
what their still earlier ancestors had learned of 
individuals. As the circle of man's interests 
enlarged, including more and more fellow- 
creatures, he began to come more and more 
into harmonious relations with the Universe. 
Out of his personal experience he began to per- 
ceive the mutual interests and the underlying 
oneness of human life, and, through that per- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 249 

ception, some have now begun to realize the 
oneness of all life. 

This is the road along which man must travel 
to reach harmony, and harmony is rest. It is 
living in accord with the universal law which 
regulates the growth and development of all 
things as well as their activities. To the un- 
developed savage the whole material universe, 
so far as he could see it, was a jumble of in- 
harmonious and unrelated things — he saw no 
relation between the different bodies in the 
heavens as they circled in their orbits; each 
created thing seemed to have its separate ex- 
istence, which had to be maintained without 
regard to any other form of life. But science 
has shown us that the heavenly bodies, however 
huge or remote, are all parts of one great sys- 
tem, under one perfect law. We know now that, 
instead of the earth being the center of the 
universe, round which all the stars, suns, 
moons, and other bodies revolve, it is itself but 
a tiny unit in a tremendous system of systems. 

All of these bodies have been circling in their 
orbits for untold millions of years, unaffected 
by the fact that no man knew of them. It is 
not too much to expect that they will continue 
to perform their circlings according to those 
same laws even after science has taught us all 
it is possible to discover. Man may profit from 
his knowledge of universal laws, but he cannot 
alter them. 



250 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

And yet the man of average intelligence even 
to-day feels that things universal in relation to 
humanity and its needs are at " sixes and 
sevens," and that his anxiety and feverish ac- 
tivity are needed to alter or better them. He 
still sees men as separate beings with interests 
that clash. 

It is this failure to understand that every 
life is bound up for good with all other lives 
which leads us to worry about our ' ' personal ' ' 
affairs, and thus to miss the rest that clear un- 
derstanding would bring. 



CHAPTER XLIX 



IMAGINARY FEARS 



soft embalmer of the still midnight 

Keats. 

WHEN we learn to confine our attention to 
" the things that are quite enough for 
any man to attempt,' ' we shall find that there 
is little real ground for worry or fretting in our 
daily life. It is a fact that, if our work wearies 
or exhausts us, either we are doing the wrong 
thing or else doing it in the wrong way. For 
the Spirit of Life is no taskmaster. It is we 
who make this world a daily grind. It is not 
naturally a " vale of tears M nor a " wilderness 
of woe." 

1 ' Joy upon joy and gain upon gain 

Are the destined rights of my birth," 

and we may all have those rights if we claim 
them as our own. Worry is a disease that some 
people enjoy as much as some others enjoy in- 
validism. There are some people who can 
hardly speak and think of anything but their 
physical ailments; they never recall the morn- 

251 



252 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

ings when they felt strong and vigorous, the 
nights they slept soundly, but only the days 
when they had uncomfortable sensations of 
weakness or distress, and the nights when sleep 
was somewhat broken. And you will notice 
that they will say they " did not sleep well " 
when they mean that they did not sleep much. 
We may always sleep well, even though we do 
not sleep much. 

There are other people who, though they do 
not weary us with accounts of their bodily 
symptoms, tell us always of their cares. They 
revel in tales of distress which shall go to show 
how much more oppressed they are than their 
fellows. They take their worries as the healthy 
farmer takes his food, eagerly, and would be 
distinctly upset if anything happened to inter- 
fere with their enjoyment of them. If they are 
going somewhere, they worry lest it should 
rain, or lest something unforeseen should hap- 
pen to prevent the expedition. It is the same 
old story, they want their " own way." They 
cannot conceive of a disappointment being a 
blessing in disguise; they know of nothing so 
hard to be borne as the setting aside of a pass- 
ing desire. 

For such as these life is full of " bitter dis- 
appointments "; cares and worries naturally 
fall to their lot ; the sun seldom shines for them, 
and even when it does they think they can note 
the spots upon it, — while the rain falls so heav- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 253 

ily and so frequently that it makes runnels over 
their whole plan of life, reducing it to a scene 
of desolation. And all the time the sun is shin- 
ing, and joys are awaiting them did they but 
look in the right direction. They are ' ' pulling 
the wrong string/' as it were. A little child 
kept calling to his mother that he could not find 
what he was seeking, because he could not 
" make the light come on." His mother wisely 
replied : ' ' You are probably pulling the wrong 
string, Harold. Pull the other." The moment 
he did so the electric light flooded the room, 
and the child found what he sought. It had lain 
right to his hand all the time, but he did not 
know to pull the right string. Our heart's de- 
sire lies just as close to us. 

Many a person who is always having trouble, 
who is worried and uneasy, longing for rest and 
comfort but never finding it; to whom " life 
is a dreary puzzle scarcely worth the solving," 
is simply " pulling the wrong string," the 
string of self-will, of separateness. His soul 
is darkened by his refusal to turn on the light, 
and the shadow covers the whole of his life. 

The darkness is filled with imaginary terrors. 
We people the corners with hobgoblins that do 
not exist, and that in our hearts we know 
could not exist. Little Bessie had for several 
nights cried out in terror after she had been 
put to bed, so that her mother was compelled 
to go to her. At first she would not say what 



254 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

had frightened her, but at last the story came 
out. 

' r I was thinking how frightened I should be 
if there was a bogey-man in the closet and he 
should suddenly put his head out and make 
faces at me." 

" But, child,' ' said her mother, " you know 
there is no such thing as a bogey-man, so he 
could not be in the closet, nor make faces at 
you." 

" Yes, mother, I know that," answered the 
child, slowly; " but, mother, if there was a 
bogey-man, and he did get into my closet, and 
if he did put out his head and make faces at 
me, wouldn't I be awfully frightened? Well, 
it's that that makes me scream." 

And often the thing that makes us i i scream ' ' 
has no more existence in fact than Bessie's 
bogey-man. We get to turning things over in 
our minds, dwelling upon dire possibilities un- 
til they become actual to us, and we get as much 
pain and suffering from them as we should if 
they were real. 

It would puzzle ourselves, if we gave the mat- 
ter attention, to discover why we are more 
given to worrying than to rejoicing, if it is not 
that we misunderstand life and its purposes. 

Consider life just on its physical side, and we 
shall see, as the Creator saw when he looked 
upon it, that it is all very good. There are 
more sunny days in the year than stormy 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 255 

ones ; there is more growing time than decaying 
time, for spring, summer, and autumn comprise 
three parts of the year, and growth continues 
through them all; the moon shines always 
somewhere, and ' ' the stars come nightly to the 
sky." The bright-colored blossoms show more 
than the somber-hued ; more birds sing 
sweetly than croak harshly, and even the croak 
melts into the symphony as a needed note. The 
purely material world points to joy and glad- 
ness rather than to sorrow and repining. 

Then, when we come to man, we find that he 
has more strength than weakness, more health 
than sickness, more power than inability, else 
man had not survived the ages. Moreover, man 
must have more capacity for enjoyment than 
for sorrow, else he would abandon life in weari- 
ness, or at best he would forget how to laugh; 
the mere animal does not laugh, that is one of 
man's accomplishments. 

Man has also more desire for knowledge than 
for ease, else he would never have penetrated 
into the secrets and mysteries of Nature; 
man's strong aspirations surmount his grovel- 
ing tendencies, else he had never come up out 
of savagery into the light and development of 
kinship with the high gods. 

Then, why should we give way to repining? 
All things point to the apostolic truth that 
" Weeping may endure for a night, but joy 
cometh in the morning.' ' And always the morn- 



256 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

ing comes. Moreover, the darkest night is sel- 
dom starless if we look up intently enough. If 
we blind our eyes with tears, we cannot see the 
light even when the horizon is rosy with the 
rising sun. Better by far is it to feel with 
Browning : 

' ' How good is man 's life, 
The mere living ! How fit to employ 
All the heart and the soul and the senses forever in 
joy." 



CHAPTER L 

ILL SUCCESS 

" And comfortress of Unsuccess 
To wish the dead good-night. ' ' 

Kipling's " True Bomance." 

TF we aim at worldly success, thinking that 
* thereby we shall be able to do more for 
mankind and be more useful, we may defeat 
our own purpose by worry and anxiety. The 
present moment is all that any man has in 
which to come into agreement with his fellows. 

If for lack of understanding he spends that 
moment in worry and unrest, he makes him- 
self and everybody else more or less un- 
happy, thereby destroys his own usefulness, 
and proves his unfitness to gain success. But it 
may be that he is deceived as to his motive ; he 
may desire success really for the satisfaction 
of winning against his less fortunate fellows. 

Why should we desire worldly success to en- 
able us to help our fellows % No amount of be- 
nevolence or philanthropy can atone for the 
selfishness, inhumanity and the greed necessary 
to acquire great wealth under modern condi- 
tions. The widow's mite or the cup of cold 

257 



258 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

water given from moment to moment is of 
greater value than the millions bestowed upon 
charity as a sop to one's conscience, or as a 
pacifier of public clamor. 

There is a degree of satisfaction in giving 
all that can never come from giving a portion 
of superabundance. We never hear of a very 
rich man giving all that he hath, over and above 
a comfortable, or even a luxurious, living. His 
giving hardly requires the sacrifice of even a 
whim. How can a man like Bockefeller, with 
an admitted income of nearly a dollar every 
second, be generous 1 How much would he have 
to give in order to feel it! — and what mischief 
would he not do in giving such a sum! The 
' ' luxury of giving ' ' can never be his, for that 
is the result of giving at the expense of our 
daily desires. The widow who cast in her mite 
enjoyed the luxury of giving, and many still 
give in that way. This gift of somebody's mite 
incited the giving of millions. 

But it is not possible that the gift of millions 
should bring the giver much happiness, if it 
brings any. There is too much publicity and 
display in such a gift ; it is noised abroad from 
press and platform, and creates a new distress 
in the mind of the giver. The giver knows that 
unscrupulous, undeserving persons or causes 
will now lay siege to a share of his wealth, be- 
cause of the notoriety his great gift has brought 
him. Some are so oppressed with appeals that 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 259 

they have to appoint committees to give away 
the money. There must be about as much sat- 
isfaction in that as in having a committee to 
kiss the women you love. 

Besides this, great benefactions cause un- 
easiness, lest they be misapplied or unwisely 
distributed, or lest the glory may be eclipsed 
by some other millionaire giving a larger sum 
to a more popular cause. Thus donations be- 
come a source of unrest and worriment, and 
the donor's last state is worse than his first. 
The giver of the mite is generally unknown of 
the crowd, sometimes unknown even of the one 
to whom he gives, so that his joy comes from 
the giving, and cannot be taken from him. "To 
him alone is it true that " the gift is to the 
giver " and that " it is more blessed to give 
than to receive." 

If there is no real joy to be had from giving 
of great wealth, why should we desire to have 
it, or fret ourselves that we do not win it? 
Neither to acquire wealth nor to possess it can 
bring happiness or peace. We have seen how 
great is the price we must pay to get great 
riches, and it is easy to see why their posses- 
sion cannot bring peace or happiness. 

Man has a limited number of wants, and 
there is an end even to whims. When all of 
these have been satisfied, what is left? The or- 
dinary man must give time, skill, thought, and 
labor to satisfy his needs, and from the effort 



260 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

he gets a large measure of joy and satisfaction. 
Even if he never gets what he is after, the ef- 
fort has given him pleasure, strengthened his 
purpose, and developed his whole nature. But 
the wealthy man is denied this natural satisfac- 
tion. He does not even have to seek what he 
wants ; servants do that for him ; he speaks and 
the thing is done. For him there is no joyous 
effort; no increase of pleasure in the very de- 
lay of fulfillment ; no sense of achievement when 
he gets what he desires. For this reason he 
soon wearies, and, having run the whole gamut 
of pleasures, and exhausted his idle fancies, he 
becomes a prey to ennui, has no object in life, 
and finds no delight in the days. It could not be 
otherwise. As an old servant in my family once 
said, " If the rich were happy, we should know 
there was no God." 

" How hardly shall a rich man enter into 
the kingdom of heaven, " said Jesus; meaning 
thereby that the possession of wealth destroys 
our sympathy with our poorer brethren and 
prevents a man from seeing his true relation 
to those who have it not ; makes it difficult for 
him to recognize his oneness with all mankind, 
and so cuts him off from that heaven of love 
and peace on earth that can come only from 
agreement of his own life with the life of others 
outside his circle. 

If we are worried or ill at ease for any other 
cause, such as ill-health, disappointed affec- 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 261 

tions, unsatisfied desires, or from any of the in- 
numerable causes to which we attribute our ill, 
we have but to examine them to find that in 
every instance the underlying error is the same. 
It is that we think of our separate interests, 
that we are for self; that " me " has a deeper 
significance to our mind than " us ' ' ; that the 
"I'" blots out the " thou." All worry, all un- 
rest comes from self-seeking, from the feeling 
of separateness rather than of oneness; from 
an inharmonious attitude towards life and its 
underlying verities. 

" Seek ye first the kingdom of God," said 
the Teacher, ' ' and all these things ' ' — material 
things, food and clothes that he had been speak- 
ing of — ' ' shall be added unto you. ' ' Now God 
is love, and the kingdom of God is universal 
love, the love that knows no separateness; 
therefore let not your heart be troubled, neither 
let it be afraid. Believe in God. The man who 
seeks first the wide Universal Peace does not 
worry nor fret. He has, by that very seeking, 
put himself in tune with the Infinite, and he 
finds that the sounds which have seemed to him 
like harsh discords are, to his listening ear, 
blended into harmony. He has heard the 
" sweetest carol ever sung " and nothing can 
drown its melody. With that song in his ears 
he can ' i run and never be wearied, he can walk 
and not faint." He loses his feverish impa- 
tience, for " he that believeth shall not make 



262 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

haste "; he sees himself in every man and 
every man in himself; he has found rest for his 
soul. 

When this peace reigns within, the seeming 
ills of life do not disturb us. We are not con- 
scious of ungratified desires, and in this lies 
the truth of the promise — " all things shall be 
added unto you." For, if man is not conscious 
of any ungratified want or desire, then, though 
he be poor in this world's goods and entirely 
unknown, he is richer by far than the multi- 
millionaire who is compelled to heap silver upon 
gold, or the pushing politician whose thirst for 
fame can never be slaked. He is in harmony 
with the Universe, he has allied himself with 
moral gravitation, and, going with its force, he 
is upheld and supported, so that he has rest 
now and is neither worried nor afraid. 



CHAPTER LI 



SOCIAL UNREST 



Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart; 
Rest, ever-seeking soul; calm, mad desires; 
Quiet, wild dreams — this is the time of sleep, 
Hold her more close than life itself. Forget 
All the excitements of the day, forget 
All problems and discomforts. Let the night 
Take you unto herself, her blessed self, 
Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart ; 
Rest, ever-seeking soul; calm, mad desires; 
Quiet, wild dreams — this is the time of sleep. 
Leolyn Louise Everett. 

INQUIRY into the causes and the cure of 
sleeplessness leads us inevitably to one con- 
clusion : there must be peace of mind, harmoni- 
ous action and interaction of mind and body in 
order to command the most refreshing sleep. A 
man may not know which of the many theories 
of sleep is correct — indeed, he may not know 
that there are any theories about it, but, if he 
lives a normal physical life and is at peace with 
the world, he is likely to sleep well. 

Since health of body, mind, and soul is essen- 



264 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

tial to our best development, and since sleep, 
restful sleep, is essential to such health, 
it would seem that such sleep is one of the 
things which rightly belong to every individ- 
ual. And, if to individuals, then to groups of 
individuals, to nations, to the whole' race. The 
race is subject to the same influence as the indi- 
vidual, and, since the chief cause of the unrest 
of individuals is their inharmonious relations 
towards one another, so the chief cause of the 
unrest of the race is its inherent discord. 

Underlying the antagonisms of men to men 
is the question of economics — " the science of 
. . . living well for the state, the family, and 
the individual," as the Standard Dictionary de- 
fines it. While the question of how he shall sus- 
tain his mere physical existence — obtain the 
food, clothes, and shelter so essential to his 
maintenance — occupies all a man's thought and 
energy, he does not readily turn toward the 
consideration of his deeper life. He feels that 
every man is his enemy, ready and willing to 
take from him, either by superior sharpness, 
fraud, or force the opportunity of supplying 
his needs. 

So long as conditions lead anyone to adopt 
this attitude towards his fellows, he is not apt 
to give much time or thought to discovering 
his proper relations toward them. Forces 
stronger than any number of individuals, acting 
separately, may drive men into combinations — 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 265 

such as labor organizations among the masses, 
or large corporations among the privileged 
classes — until we find a sort of spurious co- 
operation taking the place of individual effort. 

But this co-operation is based upon the ne- 
cessity of combining to oppose and crush, not 
upon the desire to avoid friction and bring 
about harmonious relations between men. 
Wherever either labor or capital organizes 
to protect itself from the oppression of the 
other and to dictate terms to it, that other in 
its turn organizes to protect itself and to crush 
the opposing power. Neither party to the 
struggle sees its dependence upon the other. 
Capital forgets that labor called it into exist- 
ence, that without labor there had been no 
capital, and that should labor cease capital 
would soon disappear. Labor does not see that 
capital is its own product, drawn from the land 
and used to enable men to produce more wealth. 
And neither sees that the object of producing 
wealth is not wealth for its own sake, but that 
man may, through its use, develop himself to 
an ever higher state. 

It is scarcely possible that men should see 
this under present economic conditions; how, 
then, can it be possible for men to understand 
their relations to one another or the advantages 
of harmony? 

And, if economic conditions destroy man's re- 
lations to man, how much more completely do 



266 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

they destroy man's relation to the higher life, 
to Nature or God? Even in his bitterest strug- 
gles with his fellows, man recognizes that he 
and fhose who oppose him are alike victims of 
circumstances and must fight. The resentment 
which he feels is less toward individuals than 
to the circumstances which make them antago- 
nists when they should be coworkers, and he 
does not see that the circumstances are of man's 
own creating. 

So long as he regards these conditions as nat- 
ural, ordained by some power outside himself, 
he cannot be expected to feel drawn towards 
closer relations with that power. "While he has 
to watch his chance in the battle of life, he can 
hardly see that to get in harmony with the laws 
of the Universe, to recognize his oneness with 
all life, is to leave struggle and unrest behind. 
If life is nothing but struggle, he wonders how 
any attitude can destroy or obviate struggling. 

Viewed from his standpoint, he is right. If, 
as man progresses, the desire to live well 
strengthens and deepens, and if this desire can 
be gratified only by waging relentless war 
against men and conditions, then no study of 
the relations of man to manor of man to life 
can lead to anything but greater cunning and 
more destructive methods of opposition. As 
the individual finds no way to fulfill his desires 
without fighting his neighbor, so the nation 
learns of no way to advance except through 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 267 

crushing other nations. There can rarely be 
true internal peace for the individual and no 
true rest and healthy growth for the nation 
while unjust economic conditions are main- 
tained. 

Wherever an individual feels the pressure of 
economic conditions too keenly he loses what 
little poise he may have had. He becomes rest- 
less and sleepless and the whole tone of his 
mind and body is lowered. Where the distress 
from such pressure becomes general, there the 
nation loses tone; quarrels are readily picked 
with other nations, and war is resorted to as a 
means of reducing population and of destroying 
all forms of wealth, so that a new demand may 
be created and the economic pressure for a time 
be lessened. These conditions recur again and 
again at longer or shorter intervals, and always 
the same futile means of meeting them is 
adopted. Man so little understands life that 
he has not learned that harmony with the laws 
of the Universe underlies his economic rela- 
tions as well as his physical relations. If he 
knew this, he would know that the distress and 
dissatisfaction common to all nations could 
come only from the violation of natural laws, 
and he would begin to search out those laws. 
Men for a long time held false ideas of the 
laws of the solar system, and exhausted in- 
genious devices and systems to explain its phe- 
nomena. Then they began to discover under- 



268 THE GIFT OP SLEEP 

lying laws which explain phenomena more sat- 
isfactorily : some of those laws were found, and 
our knowledge of the solar system to-day is 
based upon these sure fundamentals. 

It is as possible to make sure of the laws 
governing our economic conditions as of those 
that govern the solar system. They must lie at 
the root of all things economic and must 
explain all phenomena that any condition of so- 
ciety, whether the most primitive or the most 
complex, can produce. Until these laws are dis- 
covered and applied the earth will ' ' turn, trou- 
bled in sleep, ' ' and men may not know peace. 



CHAPTER LH 



ECONOMIC EEST 



Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep. 

Shakespeare. 

THERE are deep-lying causes of anxiety, 
unrest, and sleeplessness that more or less 
affect us all: yet, eighteen hundred years ago, 
One cried, " The Kingdom of God is at hand." 
Not, to come eventually, or to future peoples, 
but " the Kingdom is at hand." We have 
looked over a world filled with injustice, for the 
coming of the kingdom — but we have not seen 
it. What is it that hides " the Kingdom at 
hand " from our eyes? Is it not iniquity? 
What kind of iniquity! We once had chattel 
slavery, which was denounced as " the sum of 
all villainies." We still have monopoly of the 
gift of God, which is the fundamental iniquity. 
For every one of his children a loving father 
made ample provision in the earth, but we have 
allowed a few to monopolize it all; some nine 
out of every hundred own our earth, and we 
find that, under such circumstances, the laws of 
God are impracticable ; therefore, we say ' ' the 
Kingdom is not a real Kingdom— it is only in 



270 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

men's minds, only in some far-off imaginable 
day it may be in their hearts." 

The kingdom of God is in our hearts, and, 
if to-day we will but allow all our fellows to 
share in the bounty of Nature, the kingdom 
will be around us also, here and now. 

For there is a divine order, a natural law, 
obedience to which brings its own immediate 
rewards ; disobedience to which involves its own 
punishment. The first order of Nature is that 
men should derive their subsistence from the 
land and the products of land, provided by an 
all-wise Creator. From what else can we de- 
rive it f Does not everything we need, from the 
wheat to the wheel of the watch, come from 
the earth? By many hands, by many processes, 
through many stages, all forms of wealth are 
obtained by labor from the land. Food, cloth- 
ing, fuel, machinery, buildings, capital are all 
results of men working on the materials of the 
earth. So it is clear why, when we have al- 
lowed men to be shut out from that earth, we 
find ourselves surrounded by poverty and 
misery. 

Like all fundamental laws, the law of our 
economic relations is simple and easily under- 
stood, even by children. It may be stated thus : 
food, clothes, and shelter, being essential to the 
maintenance of human life, all human crea- 
tures have equal need of and, therefore, equal 
right to access to the source of food, clothes, 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 271 

and shelter. This source is the earth, and the 
only method known whereby the earth may be 
made to yield food, clothes, and shelter is by 
the application of labor to land. For, no mat- 
ter what picture we conjure up, whether it be 
of the farmer tilling the soil, the carpenter 
building a house, the factory operative weaving 
cloth, the engineer driving the locomotive that 
draws the produce to markets — there we find 
labor. And, if we try to imagine any of these 
forms of labor as cut off from land, we shall 
find our very concept of labor and of life wiped 
out. 

Everything necessary to life, whether it be 
the life of the individual, the nation, or of the 
whole race, can be produced by the combination 
of land and labor. Anything that restricts or 
hampers the application of labor to land leads 
to suffering on the part of those deprived of 
this access. When the government of a new 
country wants to increase population, it offers 
free land to settlers. It does not say, " If you 
will come to this country, the government will 
build mills, factories, stores, offices, banks, and 
churches for you "; it says rather, " Here is 
land, come and use it; build for yourselves out 
of its materials.' ' All other forms of pros- 
perity flow from the application of labor to 
land, and, therefore, it is sufficient to give to 
men free access to natural opportunities. If 
the government of a country owned all the land 



272 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

of that country, it could increase, restrict, or 
otherwise regulate population, and better or 
worsen the condition of that population by the 
way in which it granted or withheld the land 
under its control. 

This is in effect what government has done. 
It first bettered conditions by allowing free ac- 
cess to land, and then worsened them by allow- 
ing a few to make the land their private prop- 
erty; this appropriation of the land carries 
with it the power to hold it out of use, thus 
depriving all men of their equal right to the use 
of the earth, the source of supply for all men's 
wants. Instead of these favored few being 
made to pay those deprived of the land an 
equivalent for the privilege enjoyed, the disin- 
herited many are compelled to pay a premium 
to the landholder for the opportunity to labor. 

When there is a lockout, is it not the pressure 
of want that brings the men back, hat in hand, 
to the factory door ? If one could go to the out- 
skirts of this town to cultivate a bit of the un- 
used land, could he not hold out till he got all 
that his labor was worth? And, when he and his 
fellows are offered less, if they could but get 
at the unused mines and quarries and coal- 
fields and factory sites, and vacant lots, they 
would not need to seek an employer at all — they 
could get credit, if needed, and produce for 
themselves the capital which they now produce 
for others and employ themselves in doing it. 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 273 

So many evils flow from the fundamental 
wrong of shutting up the earth, that rest, the 
peace of mind and body that makes for refresh- 
ing sleep, is to many impossible. 

And who that understands would wish it oth- 
erwise? Were the power of rest and peace uni- 
versal now, it would be a denial of the very 
cause of rest, — the proper understanding of 
man's relations to humanity and to life. Un- 
til man has adjusted his economic contrivances 
to the underlying laws of a true Social Science, 
he cannot have national or racial rest. The 
material science, biology, is proving this eth- 
ical truth. Eecently Dr. Woods Hutchinson has 
shown that it does not take even three genera- 
tions to make a high-class man a " thorough- 
bred,' ' as he terms it. If good food, light, air, 
proper clothing, and wholesome recreation were 
extended to the masses, each generation would 
produce its own " thoroughbreds " from the 
' ' common people. ' ' 

He says : ' ' Men not only can but do get to 
be as able, as useful, and as desirable citizens 
for the community, in every possible regard, 
in one generation as they will ever get or are 
capable of becoming. Give the unspoiled, warm- 
hearted mass of humanity a fair living chance 
— good food, fresh air, sunshine, decent homes, 
no overwork, plenty of healthful amusements — 
and you will reap a far larger crop not merely 
of happiness, of justice, and of well-being, but 



274 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

also of geniuses, of great men and of all leaders 
and illuminators than any nation can possibly 
utilize." 

Until the privilege-created aristocracy of 
other countries and plutocracy of this coun- 
try get off the backs of the people and cease to 
exploit them by monopolies, there can be no 
complete and permanent rest, for the " mania 
for owning things " possesses the rich, and the 
fear of want makes restlessness for the poor. 
The burden-bearing masses have not yet seen 
the cause of their burden, even though they feel 
its intolerable weight at times and make efforts 
to throw it off. All this deepens their unrest. 

The very oneness of all life will put sound 
sleep and true rest ever beyond the general 
reach until all are given equal opportunity in 
Nature's great gift to man, the Earth. 

Then the worker, free of the taxes of rent 
and monopoly, free of cut-throat competition 
forced by monopoly, would have some leisure in 
which to use his brains and cultivate his affec- 
tions ; and liberty — moral, intellectual, and eco- 
nomic — would be here. 

Was it not something like this which Jesus 
had in mind when he said " the Kingdom of 
God is at hand "f Did not he say that obedi- 
ence to the laws of the Universe would bring 
their own immediate and immense reward? 
The kingdom and the peace of God is within 
our reach, did we but realize it. 



CHAPTER LIII 

" IF HE SLEEP, HE SHALL DO WELL " 

Oh ! thou best comforter of that sad heart 

Whom Fortune's spite assails; come, gentle sleep, 
The weary mourner soothe. ^ RS t ighe 

WE believe in a ruling Principle of Order 
in the Universe, in accordance with 
which everything lives and moves — planets, 
plants, and man. 

We call this " God," " the Spirit," the " Na- 
ture of Things," or by some other name, but 
we find that, in crystal, vegetable, or animal, it 
always works : and we see that it tends forever 
toward a more harmonious arrangement and 
better relations of the whole system. 

There are seeming lapses, where we cannot 
yet see, in this instance or in that, how it will 
work out; but in the arrangement of the stars, 
the growth of knowledge through experi- 
ence, and in the history of man, we see in the 
broad view that it does so work out well. Prob- 
ably Mary, certainly the disciples, thought at 
the time that the death of Jesus was a horrible 
mistake and misfortune. Now we see that it 
was " needful that this one man should die for 

275 



276 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

all the people " and that to him, even then, it 
was no misfortune. The sacrifice of one for 
many is a great principle of life. The develop- 
ment of the earth from chaos to fruitfulness, 
the development of man from brutality to the 
rule of mind, the development of ourselves 
from single selfishness to the wider love, shows 
that there is a beneficent Force and that " all 
things work together for good. ,, If each of us 
considers himself alone, as having separate in- 
terests, this truth will be obscured; but when we 
recognize that each of us is a part of the whole, 
as the tongue is a part of the body, we see that 
no part can be favored without injuring the en- 
tire system. 

If we unduly gratify the taste, the tongue 
is the very first to show that the stomach is 
" out of order," and this disharmony is felt in 
the whole body. 

Sometimes we have done wrong, or have seen 
others do wrong apparently with profit ; but the 
wider view will always show that the way of 
the transgressor is as hard as his heart, that 
the wicked man is in truth the fool. We know 
that any attempt that man makes to disturb the 
right order for the sake of any separate inter- 
est must react upon himself, destroying his own 
happiness as well as the happiness of those 
about him. 

Similarly we see that the prophet, the culti- 
vator, the inventor, the martyr, the benevolent 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 277 

man, each doing what he is inspired to do, is 
working just as much for all mankind as for 
himself, that he cannot reap the benefit except 
as others share it. For our good, we are joined 
together in one connected whole, so that no man 
liveth, or so much as dieth, to himself. 

We see how the Spirit makes " even the 
wrath of men to praise him ' ' ; that the tyranny 
of a king was necessary to drive out colonists 
to proclaim liberty, and the fierce rivalry of na- 
tions in armament is needed to usher in a Court 
of International Peace. Since that is so, since 
we know that in great or universal affairs the 
eternal purposes cannot be interfered with, why 
should we think that it fails to work in our 
own little interests 1 

We see beautiful, symmetrical shells and 
well-adapted organs in creatures so small that 
we know of their existence only through high- 
power microscopes. In them we find the same 
rule of law, the same adaptation to supreme 
ends that we find in the measureless suns and 
in the measureless souls of men. 

Accordingly, when what seems evil " hap- 
pens," as we say, to us, upon what principle 
can we conclude that this is an exception, that 
in this case something has occurred that ought 
not to have occurred? If one thing went wrong 
in the divine intent, it would show a limit to 
the rule of Good. We know that there can be 
no such limit. 



278 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

It is not fatalism to believe that the same 
holy order rules over us, for each of us and 
each of our efforts is a part of the divine plan, 
and a means of carrying it out. We should 
strive for those things that seem to us desirable 
and good; although we may not have success, 
as we call it, so kind is the constitution of 
things that the effort to direct things right dulls 
the pain of finding that the event shapes itself 
in a way that we do not like. 

We are threatened, perhaps, with what seems 
a horrible disaster ; why, the very derivation of 
the word disaster refers to the influence which 
the stars are supposed to have upon our desti- 
nies. Some power there is that controls those 
destinies, in spite of our human limitations of 
time and space. Who would take the job, 
though he had the power, of controlling even 
the material world, arranging the growth of 
plants, the rise and fall of nations, the birth 
and waning of the stars'? 

Yet we do wish to assume just such Omnipo- 
tence and Omniscience in our personal affairs ; 
to say that this possession must not, shall not 
slip from me, this one must not die. And, if 
this that is so dear does go away, then in that 
one instance, because it concerns us, we refuse 
to admit that that instance is no exception to 
the rule of Love, or to recognize the kind watch- 
fulness of Him that, keeping Israel, slumbers 
not nor sleeps. 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 279 

And yet the loss hurts, and the fear of it 
hurts still more, with a pain that seems past 
endurance — it hurts, and for ages long it has 
been necessary that we should have just such 
pain in order that we may make the efforts that 
contribute our part to the progress of the 
world. 

But some of us do not in our hearts believe 
in a beneficent Order of the Universe. We think 
that some persons may seize what they want, 
regardless of others, and yet no evil come to 
them. Even if that be so, still it is wise to act 
so as to gain the most happiness and, therefore, 
to accommodate ourselves to the Nature of 
Things. 

If we could but leave out the unreasonable 
self-pity and get into our hearts, as knowledge 
that is a part of ourselves, this understanding 
of the goodness and the loving kindness of God, 
we should be as gods ourselves, seeing the end 
from the beginning and recognizing that, suc- 
cess or failure, loss or gain, life or death, the 
times are in his hands, and it is all very good. 
And our hearts should not be troubled, nor our 
rest disturbed. 



CHAPTEB LIV 

CONCLUSION 

When the shining day doth die, 
Sweet is sleep. 

Dora Read Goodale. 

\ATE have finished our long inquiry, and it 
J * has brought us to thoughts and perhaps 
to conclusions for which we did not look. Such 
is the leading of the Spirit, into ways that we 
know not of. 

" So read I this — and as I try 
To write it clear again 
I find a second finger lie 
Above mine on the pen." 

Much of the ground we have merely passed 
over, it may be hurriedly, but we have seen 
a promised land of Peace, and, wherever the 
soles of our feet have trodden, the land shall 
be given to us and to our children for an in- 
heritance — if we will. 

Now, once again, dear reader — dear, for, in 
striving and in helping each other to get a clear 
view of these important matters, we become 
dear to each other — try these things. 

280 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 281 

If you have read and merely approved or dis- 
approved, you will get little good from the 
reading. You remember the pathetically comic 
story of the little boy who was asked if his fa- 
ther was a Christian: 

" Yes," he said, " pa is a Christian; but he 
does not work much at it." That man might 
more hopefully have been an infidel. You must 
put all that you can accept into practice if it is 
to be of any use. 

We have found that what we call body and 
mind and soul are so closely bound together 
that no one of them can be well or ill independ- 
ently of the others. We divide them in our 
thought and speech ; but we cannot find any line 
of separation. Every state joins on to the next 
one: mineral and vegetable and animal are 
composed of the same elements which pass from 
one state to another. The silex and the lime 
are taken up to make the wheat hard, we eat 
wheat and these elements pass into our bones, 
and, when our bodies return to Mother Earth, 
the rootlets take them up again to run the round 
once more. 

So the body and mind and soul are all one 
Life. There are no divisions in Nature. The 
form differs, but the essence is uniform. We 
classify for the sake of convenience and of clear 
statement. As Sir Oliver Lodge says, in i ' The 
Survival of Man " — " Boundaries and classifi- 
cations must be recognized as human artifices, 



282 THE GIFT OF SLEEP 

but for practical purposes distinctions are nec- 
essary "; but the philosopher never loses sight 
of the fundamental fact that each animal, flying- 
fish and whale, seal and polar bear, bat and 
bird, can be classified only by seizing on some 
acquired characteristic, such as the tempera- 
ture of the blood, the method of birth, or the 
structure of the bones. These mark the animal 
as belonging to an order. 

We see, then, that all are One, different mani- 
festations of the Universal Life, which must be 
understood and treated as a whole to see and 
avail ourselves of the Universal Harmony. Ac- 
cordingly we find that we must work with Na- 
ture if she is to bring forth abundantly, of 
bodily or of spiritual things, to satisfy our 
desires. Only in the sweat of our faces do we 
absorb the full comfort and strength of the 
bread of life. 

Whatever you have willingly received, will- 
ingly give to others. Only when you cast the 
seed, this your mental bread, upon the fer- 
tilizing waters, shall it return to you in the 
harvest after many days. 

What I have written, I have written as much 
for myself as for you: if it were not so, 
it would be useless both to you and to me. We 
must go up each for himself and take the 
strongholds of our own Ignorance and Dis- 
trust and Fear. Let no one think that he can 



THE GIFT OF SLEEP 283 

get life by merely reading these words of 
life. 

Try these things for yourself — teach these 
things to your other selves; breathe them in 
and live them out. Open your mind and en- 
large your heart so that the Spirit may be able 
to bless you and keep you with him, and to be 
kind to you, and to lift up the Light of his coun- 
tenance upon you and give you 

Peace. 



APPENDICES AND BIBLIOGBAPHY 

Some matters of interest mainly to students 
of sleep phenomena have been mentioned in the 
text and put in these appendices. In this way 
the general reader is saved the trouble of skip- 
ping in the body of the text. 

Appendix " A " contains some medical in- 
formation on the subject of Insomnia and 
sleep-inducing drugs. 

Appendix " B " and " C " have been trans- 
lated from the Latin by A. T. Craig especially 
for use in " The Gift of Sleep." They are of 
value chiefly as showing the attitude of the 
ancients towards this natural function. 

Appendix " D " gives some provisional con- 
clusions based on a Questionnaire on Sleep. 
The returns are as yet incomplete. 



284 



APPENDIX A 

The " Dictionary of Psychological Medicine " 
(1892), giving the terms used in medical psychology 
with the symptoms, treatment, and pathology of in- 
sanity. Two vols. Edited by D. Hack Tuke, M.D., 
LL.D., Examiner in Mental Psychology in the Uni- 
versity of London ; lecturer on Psychological Medicine, 
etc., says: 

Loss op Sleep as a Cause and Consequence op 
Insanity: Insomnia is the indication of a morbid 
condition. It is also, when prolonged, something 
more. Loss of sleep may frequently be a cause, or one 
of several causes, of mental disorder. To remove it 
is therefore of the greatest consequence in the early 
treatment of the insane. In a large number of in- 
stances it is doubtless the consequence and not the 
cause of mental trouble. The agony of mind associ- 
ated with melancholia, or the rapid flow of ideas in 
acute mania, may render sleep an almost unattainable 
boon, and in these cases it requires great discrimina- 
tion to decide when, if at all, to administer hypnotics. 
(P. 1173.) 

Remedies Known as Somnifacients, Soporifics, 
Hypnotics, and Narcotics: At the outset we must 
put the question, Is there a distinction between hyp- 
notics and narcotics? Dujardin-Beaumetz answers in 
the affirmative. He holds that for the drug to be hyp- 
notic it must imitate the natural condition of sleep 
by effecting a lowered intra-cranial pressure, and that 
drugs which, though bringing about unconsciousness, 
do not lower cerebral pressure, or which increase it, 
cannot claim to be hypnotics. On this line he sepa- 

285 



286 APPENDIX 

rates chloral as a hypnotic from opium as a narcotic 
... in the different forms of artificial or drugged 
sleep it is probable that these two factors — quantity 
of blood, including blood pressure, and quality of 
blood, do each play a part. (P. 1129.) 

Medical science has been able so far to do little for 
sleeplessness, except to call it " Insomnia." 

Insomnia: Loss of sleep has been classified under 
various heads by writers on wakefulness. Thus 
German-See has made no less than nine divisions : 

a — dolorous insomnia. 

b — digestive. 

c — cardiac and dyspnoeal insomnia. 

d — cerebros-spinal, neurotic insomnia comprising 
lesions of encephalon, general paralysis, acute and 
chronic mania, hysteria, hypochondriasis. 

e — psychic insomnia (emotional and sensational). 

f — insomnia of cerebral and physical fatigue. 

g — genito-urinary insomnia. 

h — febrile, infectious, autotoxic insomnia. 

i — toxic insomnia (coffee, tea, alcohol).* 

Among the causes of insomnia those of a predis- 
posing character are the female sex, old age, nervous 
temperament, intellectual pursuits. 

Of exciting causes may be enumerated organic or 
functional diseases of the brain, worry, anxiety, grief, 
and bodily pain ; noise, if not monotonous, fever, cof- 
fee, tea, etc. 

Among the insane, insomnia is one of the most fre- 
quent symptoms, except in chronic dementia. In 
melancholia it is the most distressing accompaniment 
of the disorder, and is especially marked in the early 
morning. 

A careful analysis of the conditions or causes of 

*Tuke's "Dictionary of Psychological Medicine," vol. i., p. 
703. 



APPENDIX 287 

insomnia has been made by Dr. Folsom (U. S.). The 
principal ones may be briefly enumerated as follows: 
Habit, reflex causes, as indigestion, genito-urinary dis- 
orders; autotoxic causes, as gout, lithasmia, syphilis, 
habitual constipation; anasmia, vaso-motor changes, 
neurasthenia, hallucinations of sight or hearing, astig- 
matism — the strain of the eye which in health may 
be unnoticed, producing " in states of debility, head- 
ache, dizziness, spasmodic muscular action or wake- 
fulness ' ' ; and the neurotic temperament.* 



APPENDIX B 

ABSTRACT FROM ARTICLE: "LUMINOUS 
SLEEP " 

By P. Arunochalam 

Deep sleep is a sleep of darkness, that is, the sleep 
of the nerves, and the utter relaxation of the body. 
Its refreshment is due to absence of thought. 

Is there a sleep of light, a luminous sleep, in which, 
while there is absence of thought, there is not darkness 
and oblivion, but perfect consciousness? To suppose 
this did not seem irrational to the Greeks. (An in- 
stance is cited of the abstracted moods of Socrates, 
Sympos: 174-5.) (Further citations of this eccen- 
tricity of Socrates are in: The Tamil Sage; Char- 
mides ; Phaedrus ; The Republic ; also Tennyson, ' ' The 
Ancient Sage.") 

This reality, sleep that is a sort of abstraction from 
the bodily condition, is pure consciousness of spirit, 
" Luminous sleep," an intellectual and spiritual con- 
dition as contrasted with physical sleep. To the gen- 

*Tuke's "Dictionary of Psychological Medicine," vol. i., pp. 
703-4. 



288 APPENDIX 

eral aspects of the genius and life of Ancient Greece, 
to its philosophy of the reality of pure abstraction, 
of absolute knowledge and the possibility of attaining 
it, such a theory would seem reasonable. 

Dr. Jowett is cited as maintaining that pure ab- 
straction is mere negation. 

APPENDIX C 

THESE CLASSICAL, THOUGH ENTIRELY A PRIORI, THEORIES 
OP SLEEP ARE NOT WITHOUT INTEREST 

SLEEP AND WAKING 

By Giovanni Argenterio (a.d. 1556) 

PREFACE 

That it may well be difficult to explain the nature, 
differences, causes, and importance of sleep and wak- 
ing, I think is made clear enough by the fact that 
concerning them there is great doubt and dissension 
among the highest philosophers and physicians. For 
Galen, when he questioned what sleep was, and what 
waking, decided at length that he could not be certain 
in what order of phenomena to classify them. Aris- 
totle indeed, in his definitions of sleep and waking, 
arranges them in different places. Judging from 
selected books of all authors, no one, in my opinion, 
has been able to enumerate the general differences of 
sleep and waking by any certain method. Alcmoen 
thinks sleep is produced when the blood in the veins 
flows back and becomes congested. Empedocles be- 
lieves it to arise from the chilling of heat in the 
blood. Diogenes states that sleep is induced by the 
blood pushing to the inner cavities of the body the 
air that is introduced into bodies. Plato and the 
Stoics taught that it arose of itself by the letting go 



APPENDIX 289 

of the spirit (or the releasing of the breath) and the 
consequent relaxation. 

It is needless to refute the cause which Aristotle 
gives for sleep, and Galen for waking. They do not 
accord. The one thinks the true cause arises and has 
its seat in the heart, — the other in the brain. On 
account of which disagreement, great contention has 
been excited among more recent philosophers and 
physicians, as to which view to adhere to. Some attrib- 
ute one significance, others another to these things. 
And so, because of the great difficulty introduced, 
there is nothing relative to the matter which is not in 
the deepest obscurity and doubt. A knowledge of this 
thing is, nevertheless, most useful, even if come upon 
by any other fortunate means, and not only through 
the knowledge of the doctors ; by such means, for in- 
stance, as through the study of the general arts; for 
if it is joyful to philosophize, and to happen upon the 
hidden and abstruse things in the secret places of 
nature, — who would not find great pleasure in learn- 
ing the causes of the sleeping and waking of creatures, 
why now they take long, now short sleeps; why at 
one time it is difficult to capture sleep, — at another 
time impossible to dispel it? 

We wonder how at one moment sleep leads to wak- 
ing; how waking and sleeping mutually succeed each 
other; why diverse things serve to explain each other, 
as sleep, waking, — and waking, sleep. 

Sometimes these, sleep and waking, are injurious, — 
at other times beneficial. For sleep and also waking 
bring forth diseases, intensify them; both equally 
drive them away, soothe sorrows and likewise in- 
tensify them; by one and the other alike, morbid 
causes are often destroyed more effectually than by 
any other remedy; indeed, in conjunction with the 
benefit of these (sleep and waking), concoctions, food, 



290 APPENDIX 

purgatives, and finally all the functions of the differ- 
ent parts of the body may be exercised to the best 
advantage ; nor is it possible, indeed, for a creature to 
live, or to maintain his life, without sleep and waking. 

There is no action of the body or mind which has 
greater values to the body, nothing which supplies 
more reliable signs for discerning bodily ills, and 
showing how to be rid of them. 

Of which things, indeed, the investigation and 
knowledge is most useful, and not without pleasure 
to those who delight in the understanding of things; 
that is what Aristotle, prince of philosophers, notices, 
when he writes his whole book concerning sleep and 
waking, — and often elsewhere at random in his writ- 
ings. Not the less does Hippocrates notice them in his 
citations, for he wrote most sayings on the subject, 
so many that I omit them; and there are many in 
other books, of which a definite impression does not 
remain in my memory. But as I have said, when all, 
or certainly most writers on this subject may be per- 
plexed with regard to these things, and involved in 
many difficulties, no one ought to condemn me, if, 
after them, and many men, I presume to write on this 
subject. 

CHAPTER I 

BY WHAT CAUSES AND MEANS SLEEP AND WAKING ARE 
PRODUCED, ACCORDING TO THE OPINION OP ARISTOTLE 

To refute the opinion of the philosophers concerning 
the causes of sleep and waking, I think superfluous; 
because, with Aristotle's views surviving now many 
centuries, no authority among these other writers 
may be greater than his; and because the ignorant 
premises of the others makes all discussion of them 
become inane. 



APPENDIX 291 

Because of this I think I should be excused for in- 
troducing the opinion of Aristotle among all the 
philosophers, that is, for choosing it from among them, 
for if we show it to be equally probable with the 
others which we presume to refute, it will be because, 
unlike them, it extinguishes them by its own plausi- 
bility. 

Aristotle thinks sleep to be produced by a vapor 
generated by the heat energy in food, the fumes of 
which, rising to the brain, are there converted into 
moisture by the coldness of the brain itself, because, 
as he says, cold is felt at the contact just as rain is 
known to be made from vapor in contact with cold 
air; which moisture or humor, by force of gravity, is 
pushed downward, descends through the veins, drives 
the heat from the heart, and makes that cold also; 
whence, the cold spreading about, sleep, he says, gen- 
erally arises. 

This moisture, or humor, — ought to be warm, he 
writes ; when it is cold, sleep, will not be produced, — 
just as those affected with sleepiness show that their 
systems are in warm and at the same time humid 
condition; and children, who have abundance of this 
warm moisture, sleep the most ; whence he states that 
this sleep chill has in fact its causes at the outset in 
this very warmth. These things he discusses partly 
in the book on " Sleep and Waking," partly in the 
second of " The Parts of Animals," and in " Prob- 
lems." I am not able to judge concerning the first 
matter, the idea of giving a single cause of sleep. 
For, according to this author, waking brings sleep ; * 
since even animals, by means of waking and exercising 
their functions are known to become quiet and sleep, 
and it is said by him, that since animals become help- 

* It appears that Argenterio thinks Aristotle inconsistent in 
his proposition here. 



292 APPENDIX 

less in sleep, this helplessness is produced by the 
excess of waking that precedes it. 

But not in waking, in food, or in this reason of 
generated vapor, is it possible to place the cause of 
sleep. Exercise produces this very effect. For 
through labor, deep and sweetest sleep falls upon the 
creatures; and this not on account of vapors rising 
from food, nor on account of a natural moisture, so 
much as by the violent exercise of the body. Foods 
that are cold or dried, as the hull of the mandrake, — 
taken into the body, induce sleep; which therefore is 
not accomplished because these foods give rise to 
vapors, since they would rather banish the vapors by 
their dryness; nor would these foods supply to the 
head what vapor is generated, since, repelled by the 
cold of such substances being taken into the body, the 
moisture would be repelled and chilled, and prevent 
the vapor from being carried to the brain. This 
would be so, as he says, only if the generation of 
vapors, and their ascent arose from the heating of 
this natural humor or moisture. 

Other chapters of interest in Argenterio's " Sleep 
and Waking ' ' are : 

Chapter II: What may bring sleep, and by what 

method, according to Galen. 
Chapter III: The causes producing sleep, which are 

thought true. 
Chapter XI: In what way sleep may be produced 

from natural heat. 
Chapter XIII: Concerning natural causes of Sleep 

and Waking. 
Chapter XIV : Concerning unnatural causes of Sleep 

and Waking. 
Chapter XVII : Of causes of long and short sleep. 



APPENDIX 293 

APPENDIX D 

QUESTIONNAIRE ON SLEEP 

In order to get the facts about Sleep we sent a ques- 
tion sheet to a large number of persons selected by 
classes. We began with a thousand professors in 
order to get suggestions which might make the in- 
vestigation more useful. The following request was 
sent out : 

Please Fill Out and Return — 

We shall be glad to supply additional copies of 
this slip upon request — we desire the largest number 
of replies possible and it is hoped the scientific in- 
terest of the subject will lead you to aid us in pro- 
curing them. 

Age Weight Height Health 

Married ? 

Do you sleep well ? 

How many waking hours in bed ? 

How many hours' sleep on an average, and at what 
times ? 

What do you consider sufficient for yourself ? 



Any difference during vacations ? 

Do you use any means or devices for inducing sleep ? 

Similar observations on members of your family, if 
any? 



294 APPENDIX 

Are your dreams usually rational or fantastic, pleas- 
ant or unpleasant ? 

Do you have nightmare ? 

Are you given to worry ? 

Does physical, especially agricultural, work relieve 
this? 

Do you take artificial exercise, or does your work in- 
volve exercise ? 

Appetite good ? Simple diet or 

elaborate ? 

Is the " sleep of the laboring man sweet " in reality? 

Name 

Profession 

Address 



No scientifically complete tabulation and study of 
data has yet been made on Sleep. 

Moffat, Yard & Company is publishing a book en- 
titled " The Gift of Sleep," by Bolton Hall. For the 
purpose of this book it is desired to obtain full in- 
formation concerning the amount of sleep needed by 
individuals in different walks of life, the circum- 
stances under which the soundest and most restful 
sleep is obtained, and the amount necessary for indi- 
viduals. 

You will confer a great favor if you will fill out 
this sheet and return to the publisher. 
Yours very truly, 

Moffat, Yard & Company, 
31 East Seventeenth Street^ 
New York, 



APPENDIX 295 



ADDITIONAL REMARKS 



At the date of going to press we have not received 
answers sufficient in number to warrant very definite 
statements in regard to sleep and dreams. A thor- 
ough report must be reserved for a later edition. Nor 
was the time sufficient for the very considerable labor 
of examining and tabulating the replies. It appears, 
however, that about one person in thirty regards him- 
self as a poor sleeper, and only two others in thirty 
will say they sleep only fairly well. About three 
persons out of five report that they spend no time 
in wakefulness in bed; the remaining two persons 
spend from fifteen minutes to five or six hours each, 
the average among this group being one hour and ten 
minutes per person per night. Among professors in 
our leading universities the prevailing hour for re- 
tiring is between 10 and 11 o'clock; four-fifths of 
this group say they retire either at 10, 10.30, or 11 
o 'clock ; but this class of people retire on the average 
about one-half hour later than persons of the other 
classes from whom we have received replies. 

The average duration of sleep is, roughly, seven 
and one-half hours. One-third of all replies gave 
eight hours as the length of sleep ; and the professors 
are inclined to sleep a slightly longer period than 
those in the other occupations taken together. 

The age of the individuals seemed to have no effect 
on the averages of the daily amount of time spent in 
sleep. Persons under the age of forty differed in no 
marked degree from persons over forty either in 
length of sleep or frequency of dreaming. There is 
general agreement on the point that they get just 
enough sleep, and that vacations make only a slight 
increase. The data is not yet sufficient to justify a 



296 APPENDIX 

conclusion as to the average time of sleep at different 
ages. 

In reference to dreams, about 15 per cent, report 
that they do not dream, and about 30 per cent, say 
they dream ' ' rarely, ' ' ' ' seldom, " or ' ' occasionally. ' ' 
We are disposed to question these returns on the 
ground that they give an impression that dreams are 
less frequent than they really are. The investiga- 
tions of most experimenters who have made special 
studies of dreams seem rather to show that the num- 
ber of our dream-experiences grows as soon as we 
give our attention to them, just as, on a clear night, a 
hasty glance at the sky may reveal many stars, but 
a steady gaze reveals very many more. 

Our returns are interesting as to the character of 
the dreams. The favorite adjective used to describe 
dreams was ' ' rational. ' ' A lesser number of persons 
said their dreams were " pleasant, " less still that 
they were " fantastic." Three times as many persons 
describe their dreams as pleasant than those who 
describe them as generally unpleasant. Either Pro- 
fessor Freud's conclusion is correct, that we tend to 
forget unpleasant experiences more readily than 
pleasant ones, or else the dreams really afforded more 
pleasurable than they did disagreeable feelings. The 
most typical combination used to describe the nature 
of the individual's dream-life was that it was " ra- 
tional and pleasant." Less than one-third of all the 
answerers confessed to having ever experienced night- 
mare. 

It should be observed that thus far we have en- 
countered a group of replies from persons who, as a 
group, are remarkably healthy, normal, and fairly 
free from worry. Particularly, worry does not seem 
to be a vice of professors, as only 8 per cent, confess 
to it. About 17 per cent, of them say they need more 
physical exercise than they get, which is mostly walk- 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 297 

ing. There is also a gratifying unanimity as to good 
appetite, simple diet, and absence of need for artificial 
means of inducing sleep. 



APPENDIX E 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 

It is surprising how little has been written about 
Sleep, and what a small part of what has been written 
is worth reading. Perhaps the best book, certainly 
the most exhaustive, is Marie Manaceine's " Sleep," 
which contains a full but disorderly Bibliography. 

Except in the case of American works, which might 
easily have escaped Marie Manaceine's attention, I 
have not tried to go further back than that Bibli- 
ography, as she was most industrious in research; 
I have only cut out from her list what seemed the 
more obsolete or needless works. But with the help of 
A. T. Craig and others, I have carried it, as far as 
may be, down to date. 

Bibliography Selected from that Given in " Sleep " 
(Manaceine). 

Abercrombie: Inquiries Concerning the Intellectual 
Powers, p. 283 et seq., 1840. 

Baillarger: De 1 'influence de l'etat intermediare a 
la veille et au sommeil sur la production et la 
marche des hallucinations. Annates Medico-psij- 
chologiques, 1845, tome vi. 

Bichat : Sur la Mort et la Vie. Paris. 

Brierre de Boismont: Etude medico-legales sur les 
hallucinations et les illusions. Annates d'hygiene 
publique et de medicin legale, 1861, tome xvi. 



298 BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Broadbent: Insomnia, Lancet, April, 1887. 

Burnham, "W. H. : Memory, Historically and Ex- 
perimentally Considered. Part III, Paramnesia, 
Amer. Jour, of Psychol., May, 1889. 

Bypord: On the Physiology of Exercise. Amer. 
Jour, of the Med. Sciences, 1855, No. 59. 
On the Physiology of Repose or Sleep.. Amer. 
Jour, of the Med. Sciences, April, 1856. 

Catlin: Shut Your Mouth, 1870. 

Condillac: Essai sur l'origine des connaisances 
humaines, Sect. I, chapter ix. 

Crichton-Browne, J.: Dreamy Mental States. Lan- 
cet, 1895, No. 3749. 

Delboeuf : Le Sommeil et les Reves. 

De Sanctis and Neyroz : Experimental Investigations 
Concerning the Depth of Sleep. Psychol. Rev., 
vol. ix, pp. 254-282. 1902. 

Dupay: La notion de la personalite. 

Durham: The Physiology of Sleep. 
Guy's Hospital Reports, vol. vi, 1860. 
Psychol. Jour., vol. v, p. 74 et seq. 

Errera, Leo: Sur le Mecanisme du Sommeil. 
Brussels, 1895. 

Fazio : Sul Sonno naturale, studio teoretico sperimen- 
tale, II Morgagni, 1874. 

Frolich : Ueber den Schlaf , Berlin, 1799. 

Fucker: Light of Nature Pursued, 1805, vol. i. 

Greenwood, Fred ■ Imagination in Dreams, and their 
Study, 1894. 

Hammond : On Wakefulness, 1866, 1873. 
Sleep and Its Derangements. 
A Treatise on Insanity, p. 115 et seq. Philadel- 
phia, 1869. 

Hartmann : Philosophy of the Unconscious. 

Henne: Du Sommeil Naturel. 

Herbart: Samtliche Werke, Bd. V., p. 541 et seq. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 299 

Howell : A Contribution to the Theory of Sleep, Jour. 

of Exper. Med., 1897. 
Judee: De l'etat de reve. Gazette des Hospitaux, 

1856. 
Lange: Geschichte des Materialismus, 1875. (English 

trans, by E. C. Thomas, 1881.) 
Lemoine: Du sommeil au point de vue physiologique 

et psychologique, 1855. 
Liebault : Du sommeil et des etats analogues, 1866. 
Maudesley : Body and Will, 1883. 
Meyer, Bruno :Aus der iEsthetischen Padagogik. 
Moore, C. A. • On Going to Sleep, 1871. 
Nagel : Der natiirliche und kiintsliche Schlaf , 1872. 
Nudow: Versuch einer Theorie des Schlaf es, Konigs- 

berg, 1791, p. 129 et seq. 
Patrick and Gilbert : On the Effects of Loss of Sleep, 

Psych. Rev., Sept., 1896. 
Paulhan, A.: De l'activite de Pesprit dans le reve, 

Revue Philos., Nov., 1894, p. 546. 
Plattner : Von dem Schlaf der Kinder, welcher durch 

das Einwiegen hervorgebracht wird (1740). 
Pierrot: De l'insomnie, 1869. 
Radestock : Schlaf und Traum, 1879. 

(In Rev. Philos.), April, 1897: La rapidite de la 

pensee dans le reve. 

Le sommeil et la cerebration inconsciente. 
Sanctis, Sante de: I Sogni e il Sonno; I Sogni 

nei Deliquenti, Archivio di Psichiatria, 1896, 

vol. vi. 

Emozioni e Sogni. Dritter Internationale Con- 
gress fur Psychol., Munich, 1897, p. 348. 
Scherner : Das Leben des Traumes, 1861. 
Schubert: Geschichte der Seele, p. 420 et seq. 
Sergu^jeff : Physiol, de la Veille et du Sommeil, t. i. 

and ii., 1890. 
Siebeck: Das Traumleben der Seele. 



300 BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Stewart, Dugald: Handbook of the Philosophy of 

the Human Mind. 
Strumpell: Die Natur und Entstehnng der Traume. 
Sully, J.: The Human Mind, vol. ii. 

Illusions, International Scientific Series. 

Dream, (Article) Encyclop. Brit. 

The Dream as a Revelation, Fortnightly Rev., 

March, 1893. 
Symonds, J. A. : Sleep and Dreams, 1851. 
Tarchanoff: Observations sur le sommeil normal. 

Atti delV XI Congresso Med., Roma, 1894, vol. ii. 
Verity: Subject and Object as Connected with our 

Double Brain, 1872. 
Yolkelt: Die Traum-Phantasie, 1875. 
Walsh : On Sleep, Lancet, 1846, vol. ii., p. 181. 
Weygandt: Entstehung der Traume, 1893. 
Wigan, A. L. : The Duality of Mind, 1844. 
Wilks, Samuel: On the Nature of Dreams, Med. 

Mag., Feb., 1894. 

On Overwork, The Lancet, June 26, 1875. 



ADDITIONAL BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Ackland, Theodore Dyke: Circular letters relating 
to hours of sleep necessary for schoolboys (par- 
ticularly in English public schools), 1905. 

Alsberg, Moritz: Die protoplasmatische Bewegung 
der Nervenzellenfortsatze in ihren Beziehungen 
zum Schlaf. Deutsche Gesellsch. f. Anthrop. 
Ethnol. u. Urgeschichte, Correspondenzblatt, vol. 
xxxii, pp. 2-8, Munchen, 1901. 

Anastay, E. : L'origine biologique du Sommeil et de 
1'hypnose, Archives de Psychol, Paris, 1908, vol. 
viii, pp. 63-76. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 301 

Argenterio (Giovanni) : De somno et vigilia, libri 
duo, in quibus continentur duae tractationes 
de ealido nativo et de spiritibus. (Florentiae, 
1556.) 

Arunachalam, P.: Luminous Sleep, Westminster 
Rev., vol. clviii, pp. 566-574, London, 1902. 

Berger, E., and Loewy, Robert: L'etat des yeux 
pendant le sommeil et de la theorie du sommeil. 
Jour, de I'anatomie et de la physiologie, Paris, 
1898, vol. xxxiv, pp. 364-418. 

Bigelow, John: The Mystery of Sleep. Harper & 
Bros., New York, 1903 (2nd edition). 

Binns, Edward : The Anatomy of Sleep, or the Art of 
Producing Sound and Refreshing Slumber at Will. 
London, 1842. 

Brush, C. E., Jr., and Fayerweather, R. : Observa- 
tions on the Changes in Blood Pressure During 
Normal Sleep. Amer. Jour, of Physiol., vol. v, pp. 
199-210, 1901. 

Calkins, Mary W. : Statistics of Dreams, Amer. 
Jour. Psychol., vol. v, pp. 311-343. 1893. Investi- 
gation of over 500 dreams showing the relative fre- 
quency of different sorts of sense imagery. 

Claparede, Edouard : La f onction du sommeil, Biv. d. 
sci, Bologna, 1907, vol. ii, pp. 143-160. 

Corning, J. Leonard : Brain-rest, Being a Disquisition 
on the Curative Properties of Prolonged Sleep. 
New York, Putnams, 1885. 

Demoor, Jean: La plasticite des neurones le meca- 
nisme du sommeil, Bull, de la Soc. d'anthropologie 
de Bruxelles, vol. xv, pp. 70-83. 

Donaldson, H. H. : The Growth of the Brain, chapter 
xvi, p. 309. Scribner's Sons, New York, 1897. 

Ellis, Havelock: The Stuff that Dreams are Made 
of. Pop. Sci. Monthly, 1899, pp. 721-735. Man 
and Woman, chapter xii. 1894. 



302 BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Fisher, Irving: Report on National Vitality, Govt. 
Printing Office, Washington, D. C. 1909. 

Fosgate, B. : Sleep Psychologically Considered with 
Reference to Sensation and Memory. New York, 
1850. 

Foster, Henry Hubbard: The Necessity of a New 
Standpoint in Sleep Theories. Amer. Jour, of 
Psychol, vol. xii, pp. 145-177, 1901. 

Frensburg, Dr. J. : Schlaf und Traum. Article in : 
Sammlung (R. Virchow und Fr. u. Holkendorff) , 
20th Series, Bk. 466, Berlin, 1885. 

Freud, S.: Die Traumdeutung. Leipsic, 1909. 

Gemelli, Agnostino: Fatti ed ipotesi nello studio 
del sonno. Rivista di fisica mat. e sci. Nat., vol. 
xiv, pp. 48-77, Pavia, 1906. 

Hall, W. W.: Sleep— or: The Hygiene of the Night. 
First edition 1861, New York (5 or 6 editions), 
one edition 1870, published by Hurd and Hough- 
ton, New York. 

Heubel, E. : Pfliiger's Archiv, xiv, S. 186. 

Jastrow, J.: The Subconscious, Chapter on Dream- 
consciousness, pp. 175-265. 1906. 

Judd, C. H. : Psychology, Pt. I., Chapter xiv, pp. 337 
et seq. Giving a clear account of sleep in relation 
to other states of consciousness, 1907. 

Kohlschutter : Messungen der Festigkeit des 
Schlafes, Zeitschrift fur rationelle Medicin, 
1863; Mechanik des Schlafes, Zeitsch. f. r. M., 
1869. (His results are very similar to those of 
Michelson in Art. Tiefe des Schlafes.) 

Lafitte, Jean Paul : Pourquoi dormons nous ? (Rev. 
d. mois, vol. ii, Annee 1, No. 10, pp. 461-475. 

Macnish, Robert : The Philosophy of Sleep. London, 
1838. 

Manaceine, M. de: Sleep. "Walter Scott Ltd., Lon- 
don, 1897. (The Contemp. Sc. Series.) 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 303 

Michaelis, Adolf Alfred, 1854: Der Schlaf nach 
seiner Bedeutung fiir den gesunden und kranken 
Menschen. Eine physiologisch-pathologische Ab- 
handlung. Leipzig, 1894. 

Michelson, Edward : Untersuehungen iiber die Tief e 
des Schlafes, Psycholog. Arbeiten, vol. ii, pp. 81- 
117. Leipzig, 1899. 

Moll, A.: Hypnotism. Seribner's Sons, New York, 
1909. 

Mortimer, Granville J.: Sleep and Sleeplessness. 
S. E. Cassino, 1881. Boston. D. Bogue, London. 

Oppenheimer, Z. : Zur Physiol, des Schlafes. 

Archives f. Anatomie u. Physiol. 1902, Leip- 
zig. 

Parish, E.: Hallucinations and Illusions. Seribner's 
Sons. New York, 1897. 

Philip, A. P. W.: An Inquiry Into the Nature of 
Sleep and Death. London, 1834. 

Picton, Nina: The Panorama of Sleep; or Soul and 
Symbol. Philosophic Co., New York, 1903. 

Pieron, Henri: La Polygenese des etats de sommeil 
(Assoc, francaise p. l'avancement de sci. Compte 
rendu pt. 2). Notes et mem. Paris, 1908, Sess. 
36 (1907), pp. 672-678. 

Pilez, Alexandre: Quelques contributions a la 
psychol. du sommeil chez les sains d 'esprit et chez 
les alienes. Annates medico-psychologiques. Ser. 
8, vol. ix, pp. 66-75. Paris, 1899. 
La Plasticite des Neurones et la mecanisme du 
Sommeil. Bull, de la Soc. d'Anthrop. de Bnoxelles, 
vol. xv, 1896-7. 

Powell, Rev. Lyman Pierce: The Art of Natural 
Sleep, — with different directions for the whole- 
some cure of sleeplessness. G. P. Putnam's Sons, 
1908. 

Preter, W. : Ueber die Ursache des* Schlafes. 1877. 



304 BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Rosenbaum, E. : Warum miissen wir schlaf en? 

Eine neue Theorie des Schlafes. Berlin, 0. Hirsch- 

wald, 1892. 
Schleich, Karl Ludwig: Schlaf und Traum. Die 

Zukunft, Jahrg. 8, vol. xxix, pp. 14-27. Berlin, 

1899. 
Schultz, Paul: Schlaf und Ermiidung, Deutsche 

Rev., Jahrg. 24, vol. iii, pp. 81-92. Stuttgart, 

1899. 
Sidis, Boris: An Experimental Study of Sleep. 

Badger, Boston, 1909. 
Stiles, Percy G. : Theories of Sleep, Pop. Sci. 

Monthly, vol. lxiii, pp. 432-438. New York, 1903. 
Strumpell, A. : Pfliiger's Archiv, xv, S. 573. Con- 
tains an account of Caspar Hauser, mentioned on 

p. 78 of this book. 
Surbled: Les Theories du Sommeil, Rev. d. questions 

scientif., Ser. 2, vol. xviii (1900), pp. 40-78. 
Taylor, J. Madison: Sleep and Its Regulation, Pop. 

Sci. Monthly, vol. lxvii, pp. 409-422. New York, 

1905. 
Tuke, D. Hack: Articles on " Sleep " and " Dream- 
ing " in Diet, of Psychological Medicine, 1892. 
Weyer, Edward M. : ■ ' Dreams, ' ' in Forum, May, 

1911. 
Weygandt, Wilhelm: Experimentelle Beitrage zur 

Psychologie des Schlafes, Zeitschr. fur Psychol. 

und Physiol, d. Sinnesorgane, vol. xxxix, pp. 1-41. 

Leipzig, 1905. 
Wundt, W. : Grundziige der physiologischen Psy- 
chologie, cap. xix, Schlaf und Traum. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 305 



SOME OTHER BOOKS AND MONOGRAPHS USED IN 
THE PREPARATION OF "THE GIFT OF SLEEP." 

Camp, Carl D.: Morbid Sleepiness, Jour. Abnormal 

Psychology, 1907. 
El win, Fountain Hastings: Mens Corporis. 
Fletcher, Horace : The A. B. Z. of Our Nutrition. 
Granville, Mortimer: Sleep and Sleeplessness. 
Hammond, W. A. : Sleep and Its Derangements. 
Haskell, N. "W. : Perfect Health : How to Get It and 

How to Keep It, by One Who Has It. 
Metchnikoff: The Nature of Man. 

The Prolongation of Life. 
McCarthy, D. J.: Narcolepsy, Amer. Jour. Medical 

Science, 1900. 
Quackenbos, John D., A.M., M.D. : Hypnotism in 

Mental and Moral Culture. 
Rowland, Eleanor H. : A Case of Visual Sensations 

During Sleep, Jour, of Philosophical, Psycholog- 
ical, and Scientific Methods. 
Scholz, F. : Sleep and Dreams. 
Thompson, Sir Henry, M.D.: Diet in Relation to 

Age and Activity. 
Upson, Dr. : Insomnia and Nerve Strain. 
Worcester, McComb, and Coriat: Religion and 

Medicine. 



Oct 2§ iau 



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